Crusade
by Minerva's cradle
Summary: Orb's princess is fed up of being a palace wallflower. When she gets a shot at independence, she gets caught in the middle of an assault that will sweep the world off its feet, unexpectedly, finding the one thing she never thought she would: love.
1. Day Becomes Night

Hello, people. This is my first fic, so please be nice!! Word of caution.. some people may be a little OOC, since I haven't seen Destiny yet, so please, don't flame me for it. Constructive criticism is highly welcome. Thanks for checking this fic out!

Note: This will be an AC fic. I guarantee you that, wouldn't have it any other way.

Disclaimer: The author of this fic does not own gundam seed/destiny, or its characters, because if I claimed I did, would delete my story—wouldn't it?—and the copyright people will sue me. Any similarities from other fics are purely coincidental, and so are any allusions to real events, places and people.

Chapter 1: Day Becomes Night

"This land is beautiful for a reason: because _we_ made it so. It was tilled by our farmers' callused hands, built upon by our workers' sweat and toil, developed into the city we see today. This great city was not built from forceless words spoken to the unlearned, but by the untiring work of our forefathers, the blood of our ancestry! This land, which would have been desolated if not for them, rightfully belongs to us, the heirs of the great men who built it.

Then there are those who refused to submit, those who relentlessly tried to destroy what our forefathers took so long to build. Jealousy? Anger? Vendetta? Who knows? All we are sure of is that lives were sacrificed.

But given that there were men, with the same supposed intellect they should have received from the Divine, these "barbaric imbeciles" must have been blinded by pointless ambition. So are forefathers took on a mission—to _conquer_. To take these hopeless men under their wing, and mold them into the men they are capable of being. Listen! This crusade was the very root of this great kingdom! From our forefathers' conquests, more land fell to good hands, their good arduous hands that founded the great walls you see today.

This is the heirloom passed on to us. It is now our duty to continue their resolve—to bring the wandering into the light. We shall launch a new crusade where all kingdoms of this good earth will unite under one banner, one ruler, one empire! In it, our race will rule, we will be remembered throughout history. As one people, we will be the foundation of a greatness that has not been and will never be matched. The greatness that will be the Zaft empire!"

The green blades of grass swayed softly with the gentle wind, the trickling sounds of a nearby stream assembling a sweet symphony of nature from afar. No trees blocked the view of the endless azure that met the wide grass plains at the horizon. It was an immaculate peace, a serenity that reflected the stark contrast of the city that stood just a few miles from it.

It's been a while since he last visited his mother's grave.

The marble tombstone stood on top of a hill, a breathtaking apparition of a pedestal to heaven. Fitting for the good-hearted woman, who was loved and revered by her family and her fellowmen.

He came on horseback. At the foot of the hill, the young man got off and decided to walk, allowing his horse to graze the fields. In his hand was a bouquet of white lilies.

Kneeling in front of the grave, the lad muttered a prayer. It was short, but in his dreams he hoped his mother was in a better place, far from war, far from deceit, far from his father's ambition.

"This place is perfect for you, mother," he thought out loud, knowing no one will hear. Not a subject, not a soldier, not his domineering father.

His words reverberated in the lad's ears. "The greatness that will be the Zaft empire!"

The young man hated war. He hated having to pick up his sword and kill fathers, brothers and sons. He hated orphaning mothers, sister, and daughters. Orphaned of a mother himself, he knew how it felt.

But he had to fight. More importantly, he had to win. Zaft was protected by the very wars it made. It had the most feared military prowess in existence.

All these Zaft had always been a conquering nation. Athrun Zala had no plans of breaking that tradition.

A sudden gust of winds shook Athrun from his thoughts. His father told him to return immediately; he had some important matters to discuss about the forthcoming crusade.

_Their_ crusade. Of a father and a son. Of a king and his heir, the prince.

It was time to go.

Miles away, a small party of five stood on horseback in front of the grand city of Heliopolis.

The city was a stunning site. Its white walls towered over the party, but not high enough to hide its grandiose monuments and skygardens. Every building was a paragon of architecture skillfully constructed by talented craftsmen. A prism of green, blue, red, and gold gilded its highest towers. From the walls one can feel the bustle of city life—the boiling pot of various sciences and studies for which its people gave their lives to. The city, the bastion of educational excellence, showed in every way the artistic talent of its people.

The leader of the party was awe-stricken. She was used to all things regal but never has she seen a city so…

Flamboyant.

Two guards, dressed as colorful as their city, inquired the party of their purposes. Upon hearing the leader's name, they scrambled to the doors, hurrying to open them for their royal guests.

The rumors were definitely true: the city was surreal. Its high-rising obelisks were made of the finest marble, so were the statues made by the world's finest artists. Monuments of past kings littered the sidewalks gilded with ruby, and the light posts sparkled a brilliant shade of green.

"Emerald light posts," one of the party told their leader. "It's hard to believe how wealthy this city is. Emerald light posts, ruby-gilded sidewalks…"

"Diamond statues," she replied.

"I beg your pardon?"

At the very center of the city plaza stood the statue of a beautiful woman, her right hand reaching for the sky, while her left held a golden scroll. Completely made out of diamond, she stood on a solid gold pedestal, painting a breathtaking contrast of blue, white, gold, and brick red.

It is the statue of our patron goddess, Minerva," one of the accompanying guards explained. "Now please, honored guests, let us make haste. The king will be overjoyed to see her Highness."

Behind the stunning figure was a series of fountains--all of which were made of pale blue crystals—along the path the party traversed. Embedded on the fountain basins were sapphires.

They finally reached the palace doors. The structure was a dazzling array of various shades of almost every color. The sheer size of it was incredible. The rarest gems adorned almost every inch of the walls.

Stepping into the final door that led to the king's courtroom, the royal lady's thoughts reeled to a few days back.

"Your Highness, Cagalli Yula Attha, Princess of Orb, and daughter of Uzumi Nara Attha, King of Orb, has arrived."

"Father, I'm not a child anymore!"

" Cagalli, I will not allow you to leave without an escort."

"But I don't need one."

"Cagalli, please listen to father. It's for your own good."

"But I already know what's good for me and it does not involve a bodyguard following me around like a dog."

Her father and brother exchanged looks. How she got this vocally expressive, nobody knows.

"Cagalli, this is the longest time you will be leaving Orb. If something happens to you…"

"Father, I've been learning self-defense for quite a few years now. I think I've learned enough to protect myself from most attacks. Besides, the crime rates at Heliopolis are almost zero. Moreover, there hasn't been an attack in that city for years. The South is generally peaceful, not very different from Orb."

"You never know…"

"Kira! You're supposed to be with me on this one!"

"I know! But you can't help it if the both of us are worried."

"For you safety. Please, let us assign escorts for you. We… no, Orb itself will be devastated if something bad happened to you."

Her father's eyes locked into her own. He just had to give her that look, telling her hat she must submit.

"Alright Father, as you wish. Who will accompany me?"

Kira breathed out a sigh of relief. Thank goodness their father wasn't too busy today. He'd hate to argue with his sister, the younger, more persistent princess of Orb.

Cagalli's eyes lost the shimmer of hope they had a while ago. Finally she had the chance to explore the outside world. Not that she hated her country—she loved it dearly. However, her father's oveprotectiveness prevented her from pursuing the duties reserved only for her brother, Prince Kira Yamato Attha. Cagalli would have has no say in many things—in the military, for starters—if it weren't for her brother, who openly accepted suggestions from her.

Heliopolis was known for setting the standards of education. Weeks ago, the Heliopolis school of Arts and Politics had sent Cagalli an invitation for her to enter the institution. Many schools had invited the princess for an education, but this so far had been the best offer made to her.

Beauty, intelligence, and brawn all bundled up into one—for this she was renowned for. She was rarely able to visit neighboring countries—and if she was it was only for a few days and the prince would always be with her—but nobles from all sorts of places flocked to Orb for her hand in marriage, to all of whom she refused. It would be bad for Orb's reputation if her princess shoved steak knives through her suitors' throats.

The golden city was Cagalli's ticket to a little independence. She was going to learn the wisdom of the Heliopolis scholars, and that knowledge she will bring back to Orb. She was going to show that she was no longer the little princess everyone had to be worried of. Only the passion to learn awaited her there. Now here she was at the golden city, escorted by four of her father's most able men. So much for independence.

The king's welcoming speech was—dare she say it out loud—quite a bore. King Azrael was an eloquent speaker, but his words went around in circles. The hour-or-so speech was more of a tourist travelling guide than a royal address. When the king was finally done, he invited the princess to stay for the night. To this Cagalli had to refuse.

"Oh no, your Highness, I wish not to abuse you kindness by causing a stir with my presence. I have already arranged an inn where I will be staying tonight."

"An inn for someone royal as yourself?"

"But you Highness, I believe that the inns of Heliopolis offer the best services in the world. Miniature palaces in their own right, as you referred to the yourself."

"True. Such a shame, I wished you could meet with my son. He would be returning soon…"

Cagalli felt her body twitch. _I thought so_.

"But if it is your wish to stay outside the palace, please be informed that you are always welcome in our humble residence."

"Yes, your Highness. Now, if you would excuse me," she graciously ended. "I would like to attend to some personal affairs."

"Personal? I thought the princess knew no one in Heliopolis."

"Oh, by that I meant I would be arranging my residence for the next month. I really must be going now. It was a pleasure meeting with you King Azrael."

The party stepped out of the palace doors, gathering curious and admiring stares. News spreads out among the nobility.

"An inn, your Highness? But you haven't arranged for one," one of Cagalli's escorts asked her.

"An inn? I will not be staying at an inn, Sir Andrew," Cagalli answered.

"An excuse from staying at the palace?"

The princess gave a soft nod. Even with her hood on, flickers of her golden hair and the silhouette of her well-built figure caught the eyes of the nobility, particularly men.

"But princess? Where will you be staying?"

"At a friend's place."

"A friend?"

"Yes, Lady Lacus Clyne."

Lacus's home was a small bungalow a polar opposite of most of the houses that stood on Heliopolis ground. Daughter of the late artist Siegel Clyne, Lacus was the prodigy of the Heliopolis conservatory of music. She was still a student, but the rumors of her heavenly voice have been circulating the imperial theatres for quite some time.

The door opened to reveal the songstress herself, dressed in a purple sundress, her pink hair tied neatly at the back of her head.

"Cagalli, it's been a while. How are yo…"

The princess cut her off with a warm hug.

"I missed you so much, Lacus! I've been well." She let go. "I'll be staying here for a month; you _did_ receive the message, didn't you?"

As the two girls chatted, Sir Andrew couldn't help but smile. All her life, the princess had been forced to smile and act the part of the "perfect princess". He knew it made her feel fake, no better than a palace wallflower. And she _hated_ it.

"She's even more beautiful when she is with Lady Lacus," he smiled as she looked at the two young women.

"Princess," Andrew called.

"Yes?"

"We will be leaving now."

"What? But father said…"

"We have our orders. The king asked us to escort you to Heliopolis, leave you with Lady Lacus, and return to Orb."

The princess was speechless for a moment, as the party—now four—got back to their horses.

"Sir Andrew…"

"Yes, princess?"

"Tell father I said thank you."

Sir Andrew nodded. As they rode to the golden sunset that invited the night, Lacus put a hand on her friend's shoulder. It was Cagalli's first time away for so long. She was finally getting a chance at a life of her own, even if it is just for a month.

The two girls entered the house as the once blue sky receded to the sun's orange fingers. Tonight, Cagalli knew her dreams were going to be sweet.

In her sleep, she mumbled, "Finally, freedom."

Lacus let out a smile. This will definitely be a meaningful month for her closest friend.

The same night sky blanketed Zaft, as Prince Athrun Zala stepped on the marble staircase of the royal palace where his father had waited impatiently. The meeting had started without him.

As he opened the door, his father, King Patrick Zala, eyed him cunningly.

"You're here. Have a seat, Commander."

Just as his back hit the red cushion, a subordinate handed Athrun a white sheet containing a list of supplies, strategies, to name a few.

"The content of what you see," the king gestured to the white sheets. "Are from the army's logistics and supply wing."

_Wrong. They come from the people's taxes_, Athrun thought.

"It shows that Zaft is _finally _ready to initiate itself in the offensive, and the defensive if necessary."

_Wrong again. Zaft had always been ready for any attacks. Our defense is unbreakable._

The meeting went on to discuss how Zaft would go about conquering the countries the king chose to target. The prince had little part in deciding which kingdom should fall first, but Athrun listened intently. His part in all of this was simple.

"Commander," the king bellowed.

"Yes, your Highness."

"Prepare you men. Set out for the first annex to the Zaft Empire."

The flowers on Lenore Zala's grave were untouched since Athrun left them there. Not even the butterflies came. They were beautiful, but the hands that touched them last left on them the faint scent of blood, the blood of hundreds of men who died for Zaft, some of which were killed by Athrun's own hand.

This was not his first war. Destabilizers, terrorists, and enemy countries continuously pillaged the peace. He had been fighting since he was sixteen.

Lenore's son was now twenty-one. He was to lead another war, which, as his father claims, will end all wars.

Another gust of wind blew across the plains, blowing the bouquet away. The sky was pitch black when the petals fell across the stream.

"And the first kingdom to be attacked is?" Athrun asked.

The king spread out a map. In the west lie Zaft. Somewhere in the North, the kingdom of Logos with its capital, Copernicus. In the Far East, the kingdom of Orb.

Patrick Zala's finger pointed South.

"Heliopolis."

That sums up my first chap. Don't sue me if there hasn't been any fluff yet… please be patient. Many thanks to Rosagiganteacouncil for helping me with this fic. You might want to check her profile out.

Read and review, pleaaaaaaasssssssseeeeeeeeeeeee………………. Thanks in advance 


	2. The Heliopolis Summer Festival

Yo, everyone. Here's my new chappie. Hope you like it. Pretty lengthy, though. Don't get too bored, all right?

I've decided to use page breaks for clarity's sake. Again, allow me to remind you that I am very prone to OOC-ness. Please do not sue me for it. I'm so happy for the positive feedback. Thanks everyone!

Again, before you think of anything funny, I'd like to make clear that this is an AC fic and will always be one.

Disclaimer: The author of this fic does not own gundam seed/destiny, or its characters, because if I claimed I did, would delete my story—wouldn't it?—and the copyright people will sue me. Any similarities from other fics are purely coincidental, and so are any allusions to real events, places and people.

Chapter 2: The Heliopolis Summer Festival

The sweet song of Orb's humming birds echoed across the fortress of the East. Orb was not a very large kingdom. It could not match Zaft in war or Heliopolis in extravagance, but it, nevertheless, was ruled well by its highly revered king, Uzumi Nara Attha.

"Father, is something wrong?" Kira, his son, asked.

"Oh, " the king snapped from his thoughts. "Nothing."

"Are you thinking about Cagalli?"

There were only a few moments that the king was seen blushing. This was one of them.

"Father, Cagalli is old enough. She's eighteen. Besides, she should see what life is like outside royalty," the prince joked.

"I know, it's just that…"

"Yes, Father?"

"Well, she is…"

A short silence ensued before the king finally cracked.

"She's still my little girl!"

Kira burst into a hearty laugh. _Father is still overprotective of Cagalli. _

"What's so funny?" the king barked.

"Nothing, Father, I'm sorry. Nothing too important," the prince said, stifling his giggles as he left his father's room.

Kira was still giggling when Lt. Commander Mwu La Flaga caught sight of him. As the leader of Orb's first cavalier division, Lt. La Flaga saw very little of the prince behind the military uniform. Seeing the gentle, fun side of the lad delighted him.

"You seem quite happy today, my Prince," La Flaga commented.

"What?" the prince said, still overwhelmed by laughter. "Oh, sorry. It's just Father. It's only been two weeks… and he's missing Cagalli already. "

o+

Down South, two eyes still lay asleep in Heliopolis.

"Cagalli…"

Still they won't open.

"Cagalli…"

Lacus kept poking her friend to no avail.

"Ca…ga…. li…"

Now the songstress was nudging her sideways, rocking her petite frame. Lacus couldn't take this anymore.

"Oh, Cagalli."

Lacus stood up from Cagalli's bedside.

"I think you need more sleep. I'll be going now."

With that, she closed the door.

o+

Last night was definitely exhausting. It was Heliopolis' summer festival, and Lacus urged Cagalli to go.

"But I can't," Cagalli argued. "Look at all the work I have to do."

Lacus eyed the pile of books that awaited Cagalli's reading. Ever since her second day at Heliopolis, Cagalli zeroed in on her work in school. She had something to prove, and part of it was to show that she did not need a tutor to remind her to study, tutors who sometimes bored Cagalli to death with their redundant lectures.

Not that she really needed a tutor though.

"But Cagalli, you did say you wanted to see life outside royalty."

"Well, technically, I am. The Heliopolis school of Arts and Politics does not follow the standard conventions of education. Moreover, I've met many kinds of people from various learning disciplines. It's very different from the palace. There's more variety. This place, I tell you, is a scholar's haven."

Lacus sighed. This was not the _only_ haven she wanted Cagalli to see.

"But that's just part of it."

"I know," Cagalli blurted. "But I want to be of good use while I'm here. I want to prove that I'm capable of being an accomplished…"

"Cagalli, how many months will you be in Heliopolis?"

The princess was stunned. "What?"

"Just one," Lacus explained. "The least thing you can do is enjoy it. Be a teenager for once. Heliopolis life is never complete without seeing the festival nightlife. Please, Cagalli, for me?"

Heliopolis wasn't half as fantastic in day as it was in night. The emerald light posts were turned on giving off a brilliant green luminescence that reflected off the ruby gilding of the sidewalks—a dance of red and green reflecting on the white marble obelisks. The diamond statue of Minerva glistened, the water fountains visible through the statue's clear façade.

Scholars filled the plaza during the day, with a few vendors barking their products to the public, most of which were clumped together in the city marketplace. During the night, the vendors were everywhere, and the crowd was composed of teenagers, the middle-aged, young and old alike. As the two girls made their way across the sea of people, the items for sale just kept getting more curious.

"The most precious gems from the North, East, and West!"

"Exotic love birds from the Montgomery!"

"The sweetest honey for your honey! Get it right here! Yes, sir… Yes ma'am, step right up!"

Cagalli noticed the huge crowd flocking to the honey stall.

"Now what makes that one so special?"

At the honey stand stood a red-haired girl smiling as she gave the honey jars to all her eager-looking customers. Her younger sister, carrying the same shade of red as the older girl's hair, smiled sweetly as well.

Lacus giggled. She strode to honey stall, making it through the tight crowd while holding Cagalli's hand.

"Luna! Meyrin!"

The sisters turned to see Lacus.

"Lacus!" Luna recognized. "Oh, and a friend?"

"Ah, yes," Lacus pulled Cagalli to face them. "Luna, Meyrin, this is Cagalli. Cagalli, I'd like you to meet Luna and Meyrin. They're from the Heliopolis School of Medical Arts."

"Cagalli?" Meyrin paused to give it some thought. "Wait…"

The princess waited for the recognition.

"A foreigner?"

Cagalli liked the fact that few Heliopolians—most of which were nobility—recognized her as Princess. She couldn't even visit the local Orb market without at least five sentries accompanying her. Once in a while, they'd let her speak to the people, ask them what their requests for the king were, and that was about it. Sometimes, her overly protective father was so tight, he suffocated the princess.

Just to show that she could handle herself, Cagalli requested for self-defense lessons. Her best teacher was Kira. He taught her the basics, what to do when you get attacked, what to do when you need to attack. He did, however, warn her to use what she had learned only when absolutely unnecessary, and this advice Cagalli took to heart.

Heliopolis, in this sense was very different from Orb. Commoners did not know the princess's face; she has never made a public appearance here. No one would disturb her when she took long leisurely walks with Lacus. She even had casual talks with some of Heliopolis's most brilliant minds, the street philosophers who had their classes on semi-public symposiums on the streets.

Never had Cagalli felt so free in her life. She missed home, but home was now just a few weeks away. Right now, she wanted to enjoy what she had.

"Yes, from Orb," Cagalli replied weakly. "And you?

Meyrin seemed to have paused to think. Lacus decided to cut in, "Luna and Meyrin aren't from around here either. They're from Zaft. I met them on one of their foreign study invitations. Like the one you got."

"Ah yes," Meyrin responded weakly. "My sister here is an accomplished doctor."

"Really? Well then, I'd be looking forward to a few discussions with you, Luna," Cagalli remarked, eager to speak with another learned individual.

"My pleasure, Cagalli," Luna replied, hastily taking out another honey jar. "Here is one of our best samples. Our honey has been tried, tested and proven to be an effective aphrodisiac. Would you like to take this one to Orb? Perhaps someone may find interest in it."

Cagalli's newly received—not bought, Luna insisted she not pay—aphrodisiac honey jar now jiggled in her knapsack. Lacus felt another urge to laugh.

"So Cagalli, who is it going to?"

"This?" She hasn't even thought _who_ would be interested in it. Kira didn't have a betrothed, he would never take it. So would her father. But Lt. La Flaga—now there was a ladies man. Maybe he could use it.

"Hm… to a certain lieutenant back home."

Meyrin began stuffing the used tablecloth, spoons, and test-taster bowls used in their one-night business affair. They had made quite an amount. She smiled gleefully as her sister told her it was time to go. Luna's eyes shifted from her sister to a certain black silhouette at the far end of the crowd. She noticed the figure smile, somewhat to tease her. The man moved far into the other crowds, Luna's eyes never leaving him.

Meyrin felt she understood.

"Something you saw?"

"Yes."

"So that means he's done?"

"No."

"Then why are you smiling?"

Luna's lips formed a dubitable smirk. "Gold never did suit him."

Meanwhile, the princess's pocket watch struck twelve midnight, meaning it was time for the annual fire works display. Streaks of green, white, blue, and yellow colored the black night sky. A white aerial fountain that blasted into the figure of Minerva's statue ended the show.

"Beautiful," Lacus said, as she and Cagalli sat beside one of the sapphire-adorned fountains, away from the crowd.

"Yes, I wish Kira was here."

Cagalli sensed Lacus's heart skip a beat. A blush flustered her rosy cheeks.

"Oh yes!" Lacus snapped. "True, the prince would have been pleased."

Cagalli's eyes shone a mischievous glint. "Oh, _I_ see…"

"Cagalli! What now?"

"My friend, since when did you find my brother… interesting?"

Lacus's blush grew deeper, "Well…"

"Well?"

"That's not of your concern, Princess!"

When Lacus called Cagalli Princess, she was definitely annoyed.

"Yes it is, my friend. Yes it is."

Whenever Lacus visited Cagalli in Orb, Kira had always been out on official business. Their father regretted that the prince had never had a formal audience with the pink beauty, of whom King Uzumi thought of very highly.

Two years ago, the then sixteen-year-old Lacus was invited to have a concert in Orb. As luck—or destiny—would have it, Kira was home for the night.

Kira's brown stallion, Strike, flew across Orb's night-laden grass fields. Its rider rode with the greatest skill and, tonight, with the greatest temper.

Sir George Allster had forced the prince to stay late to accompany his daughter, Lady Flay Allster, to an evening tea party. Out of etiquette, Kira couldn't refuse.

The prince checked the time, finding that it was ten in the evening. There was no chance he'd make it to the concert by now. He was still thirty minutes away, and the concert ended in thirty minutes.

He thought it useless to tire Strike by running full speed to the theatre, so he decided to get off his stallion and rest on the grass. Laying back, his mind rummaged a few things. His thoughts made him drowsy until he fell into a shallow slumber.

Too bad. Cagalli had requested Lacus's performance, in hopes that finally, she could meet her brother. Kira's gut told him Cagalli was up to something; it was just a bit hard for him to think about it now. He was tired, thinking too much. He would think about it when he wakes up…

The all-too-familiar clatter of steel swords woke Kira up. A few meters away, four chiseled men—apparently robbers—cornered a hooded figure. From her slight frame, she was definitely a woman.

His instincts kicked him off his feet. The robbers never knew what hit them. Just as one of the men began to draw closer to the lady, Kira had knocked him unconscious with a blow to the nape. The other men aimed punches at the prince, all of which touched only the cold night air. Out of nowhere, two thuds broke their noses. The last man, the biggest of them all, raised his sword, but when he took a close look at the prince's face, he was frozen at his steps.

"P…pr… prince Kira!" the man stuttered, falling to his knees. "Please, Sir, my Lord, spare me!"

Upon hearing their opponent's name, the three men, carrying their fallen comrade, sped across the path to their own horses. Knowing it was useless to pursue them alone, Kira decided to let them go. He rushed to the maiden in need of aid.

"Lady, are you alright?" Kira spoke, worried, noticing the bruise on her right hand. "Do not worry, I will have the sentinels watch out for them." _Just to make sure that those bastards don't cause trouble again. _"You're hurt."

"This is nothing," the lady's voice angelic.

"But I insist," Kira said as he let out a smile and a handkerchief. This he tied to the lady's soft right hand, putting it in his.

"There. It should feel better now."

"Uhm… Thank you."

"You're welcome."

"Uh… Prince Kira?"

"Yes?"

"You can let go of my hand now."

Upon realizing the way he held the lady's hand, Kira flushed. "I'm sorry, we haven't even been properly introduced yet. I am Kira Yamato Attha, Prince of Orb. You must be from another country—most of our people know better than to wander in these plains at night."

"Yes, she chuckled. "I've been told. But I couldn't help it. These plains are beautiful at night."

"True," Kira roamed his vision to admire his country's beauty. Then he realized, "Wait, who told you? Do you know anyone from Orb?"

"Yes, your Highness. Your sister had told me a great deal of Orb's beautiful landscape."

"Cagalli?"

The lady nodded, taking off her hood.

"It is my honor to meet you, your Highness. I am Lacus Clyne."

Ever since, Lacus's visits to Orb have been more frequent, seemingly timed to Kira's own schedule. They talked about Orb, Lacus's home city Heliopolis, among other things. Sometimes, they spent silent walks in the palace gardens, where subjects came to admire the lady's beauty and the prince's demeanor.

"You'd make the perfect couple," Cagalli smiled.

"Wha…" Lacus scrambled.

"You and my brother," the princess snickered.

"What? But he doesn't even… I don't even know…"

Cagalli blurted into a hearty laugh. "Whatever."

"Well… Whatever happened to the robbers?" Lacus asked, changing the topic.

"Them? They were caught the next morning, sentenced for five years."

Lacus gasped.

"It's in the law books. Minor theft. After six months, they realized the wrong of their ways. Kira sent them to the Southern plains to work in the farmlands not very far from here. Kira is particular about the law, but when he sees that a criminal repents and a pardon holds with the law, he'd gladly let the man off the hook, provided he never does it again. It's strange. He just seems to know when a person's changed for good. It think it's his sensitivity---something he got from Father."

"He will make a good king someday," spoke the songstress.

"Definitely. But he'll need a good queen."

"Cagalli!" Lacus was patient, no doubt, but even she had her limits. Cagalli just seemed to know where to prick her.

Out of the blue, four towering shadows stretched across the white walls. The crowds had dissipated; only a few distant noises rang every now and then. Even if the two girls screamed, the closed walls of Heliopolis homes would block out the sound. Of all places, they had walked into one of the city's darker alleys.

"What was that?" Cagalli whispered.

"I don't know," Lacus answered. Suddenly, she felt a sharp chill across her back, but it wasn't the wind. She spun around to see a tall man with three formidable minions behind him.

"Hello there, little girls. What do you have for us today?" their leader bellowed.

The men were huge. _Robbers?_ Cagalli thought. _It's hard to believe this city actually had them._

"Oh, you two must be foreign. No? Well, we were just looking for some fun around this city… You see, we're from afar… and being alone, we lonely men seek a little pleasure once in a while…"

_Think of the Heliopolis crime rate as a graph approaching a vertical asymptote,_ Cagalli thought, remembering one discourse she heard from one of the street philosophers, a mathematician. _It infinitely approaches zero, but is never _at_ zero._

These men wanted more than money.

_Should I attack? But what about Lacus? What if they take her away while I'm busy tackling them? _

Cagalli's eyes flew around the corners, looking for a way out. None. They were trapped.

"Come on girls, don't be shy…"

_Damn, why didn't I bring something useful? _

The honcho's filthy hand had just stretched to touch the songstress's soft cheeks, when a strong thud broke the night.

"Alfonso? What the…"

Too late, the honcho realized that all three of his men were on the ground, wincing in pain. Soon, his line of vision went black, his body plummeting to the ground.

Everything happened so fast that neither lady was able to catch their savior's movements. Cagalli, in particular, was amazed at the speed he finished off the simians. She raised her head to meet the man's face, or rather, that of a boy's.

Without even looking back, the boy began to take off. It didn't seem like he wanted to stay long.

"Thank you for your help," Lacus managed.

"We owe you big time, young man," Cagalli followed.

"For what?"

"For saving our lives, that's quite obvious."

"Oh, that. Don't mention it."

It sounded so much like Kira's first meeting with Lacus. Cagalli felt slightly disturbed.

"Is there anything we can do to repay you?" Cagalli asked the boy.

"I don't need anything."

"Then at least give us your name, so we can repay you when you need it."

The boy faced them again. Cagalli realized that he wasn't that young, probably sixteen or so. His red eyes reflected an arrogant personality, but he had the skill to match. The kid was definitely something. He fought well.

"It's Shinn," he spoke. "Shinn Asuka."

0+

_Strange young man_, Cagalli thought. He was nothing like her brother, except for his skill—his moves reminded her so much of Kira. Swift, strong and dead accurate. The way he handled those men was professional. He must have been trained.

The princess was too tired to think of anything now. It was her turn to sink into the world of slumber.

0+

Deep into the night, Shinn walked along the ornate sidewalks, making his way to he palace. He found it hard to stomach how he got in—he knocked at the front door. The prince was right. The city's defense, never once breached of foreign attack, was a wreck of its former glory. Anyone could get in, especially during the festival, when the city was more than happy to accept guests.

An assassination attempt would have been possible. But the prince insisted that no blood be spilled—yet. Hopefully, the king would be smart enough to submit.

Then again, the prince admitted he did not know how the king would react to the message in Shinn's pocket. The young man's orders were clear: infiltrate the city, make sure the message gets to the king, then return to base camp. Easy.

The city towers were always open for public stargazing. Shinn climbed up the marble steps. When he reached, he drew out a crossbow from his leather backpack.

_Not even a single guard in this forsaken tower. Unbelievable_, Shinn thought.

He raised the weapon to eye level, targeting the stained glass window of the king's chamber. With a strong heave, he let go of the arrow, his expert hands sure of the arrow's path.

It pierced through the stained glass, white light funneling out of the crack as screams perforated the night. His task was done.

The men of the king's court all thought it was an assassin. They figured he hadn't gotten that far. Soldiers who took the night shift scrambled to call their comrades who chose to spend the night with their families, all to search for the king's assassin. They opened the city gates, sending out hundreds of men on horseback.

It was the chance he'd been waiting for. Riding his black stallion, Impulse, Shinn rode amongst the Heliopolis soldiers, his golden coat blending into the crowd of golden-coated soldiers. The frantic search for the assassin continued, but little did Heliopolis know that who they searched for was not an assassin, and that he got out the way he got in—through the front door.

Again, let me repeat, this is and will always be an AC fic, I promise! Oh, and sorry if the fluff has got to wait… it'll take a while before they meet. Pray I type faster so I can upload all the chaps. I'm really sorry, I think I told that I'd update Friday, but my internet access expired just when I was about to finish all my review replies. Sorry! Blame the Internet card! It's evil, I tell you, evil!

Before I forget many thanks to Rosagiganteacouncil and this time to Rihaku as well. Forgot to credit him last time—his fic, Empire, was one of my inspirations. Cool read, I tell you guys. Anyway, got to go, I have to start typing the next 3 chaps, which are all done on paper. Thanks so much for reading and it'd be really cool if you dropped a review. Please, please… it makes me so happy. Thanks!


	3. The City of Fools

Hello, everyone! Finally, I got to finish typing chap 3. Hm.. I got only two reviews for chap 2, I know that's not exactly good since this IS just the beginning and not developing a decent readership count this early is really bad, but oh well, I can't force people to read if they don't want to. Anyway, if there are parts you don't get, or parts that just suck, please tell me so I can do something about them. I know I can be a complicated writer sometimes and my words are often loopy, but I'm asking, no, BEGGING, that everyone bears with me since the diction is supposed to create the environment for this fic. I'll try to be less complicated so nobody stops reading in the middle of the fic because the writer isn't making any sense. Peace?

Let me also warn you that chap 3-5 will contain very little fluff, or rather,--dare I say it—no fluff at all. This IS a war setting, so it would be quite unrealistic if I didn't explain any assaults. Athrun and Cagalli meet in the next chap, and as I have told some of the reviewers, it will not be fluffy. But I don't think I've ever read a first meeting like it so you can expect it to be different from the usual. And I've changed the summary to jive more with the first 7 chaps, which are already written on my scratch pads. There….I hope you can bear with this very complicated, partly disturbed, partly sleep-deprived excuse of an author. Thanks in advance!

Disclaimer: The author of this fic does not own gundam seed/destiny, or its characters, because if I claimed I did, would delete my story—wouldn't it?—and the copyright people will sue me. Any similarities from other fics are purely coincidental, and so are any allusions to real events, places and people.

Chapter 3: The City of Fools

Pandemonium.

"The assassin! We must find the assassin!"

The beginning of the end. A prologue to the eternal requiem of the soul in search for absolute peace.

"At all cost, apprehend him! Whoever the wretch is."

Pandemonium is inevitable. It is heaven's sign.

_For what?_ "He is nowhere to be found, Father."

For a great city's downfall.

o+

"I don't care! Find him, find him!"

"Father, please calm down. A battalion has been sent and I assure you that they will bring good news."

The sun's luminous fingers began to stretch across the now bluish-purple sky. It was dawn.

"Father please. What matters is that you are safe. No one will hurt you while I'm here."

"True?"

"True."

"Oh, Rey! Whatever will I do without you? Come, son, give your father a hug."

The young man called Rey approached his would-be father and embraced him, the king holding his would-be son like a maroon does a floating log in the middle of the sea.

Rey smiled, only to hide the revolting disgust in his thoughts.

The son of a deceased general of Heliopolis, Rey was adopted by King Azrael at the age of twelve. He owed his stepfather a million, considering he could have been a beggar living off the streets, but he couldn't help but be sick when his stepfather flaunted his city's riches to foreigners. He'd often be set up with princesses from foreign lands, the latest of which was Cagalli of Orb. Luckily, the princess refused.

_Thank the heavens she was sensible_, Rey thought.

Azrael knew nothing of war or national defense. He understood only art and court etiquette; Heliopolis was peaceful anyway. The South had been without conflict for twenty years, and King Azrael had reigned for only ten. Perhaps the peace was because Heliopolis was only a few miles from Zaft, and few dared to stir Zaft's attention by stepping close to their territory. In a way, being close to a powerful military nation had its benefits. Zaft had also been busy with its battles with Logos for the past five years. Differences seemed to have subsided though, the conclusion of their war as mysterious as its beginnings.

Rey had always thought the king adopted him hoping that he somehow inherited his father's military know-how. Walking along the palace skygardens, which rose to thirty feet high, he looked over his city.

Beautiful. But defenseless. He despised the lax in security, but the king had insisted that too much security would scare the tourists away. "They might think something is wrong," the king once said.

_Something _is_ wrong with this city,_" Rey thought. _You. _

The city would never stand an attack. The military has deteriorated from a superior power to a laughing stock of drummer boys. _Just look at how they're dressed! One attack from Zaft…_

Zaft. Before he was adopted, Rey was raised in the military superpower. He knew what it was like. If Zaft wanted to launch an onslaught on neighboring kingdoms, Heliopolis would be the first target. It _is _the nearest city to the Zaft capital Aprilius, and probably the easiest to conquer.

He couldn't help but pity the Heliopolians, the commoners who knew so much and yet knew nothing. The cradle of learning was a fool of war. They were living in a fantasy, arrogant of their "profound wisdom". They decorated their sidewalks with precious gems yet let their armors rust in the bunkers. King Azrael had busts of former kings litter the streets, but he never tried to honor what they fought for. In heaven, Azrael must be damned.

Heliopolis's military was once formidable. Decades ago, it was even one of Zaft's greatest rivals in war. It's wealth, once fueled by conquest, was now fuelled by tourists. Last night, Rey hoped, taught the king a lesson.

The attacker was obviously not an assassin. The arrow was directed to the room, not the person. His silhouette would have been clear through the glass. A trained killer wouldn't have missed it. The arrow was found a full ten feet from the king's bed, just at the window. Azrael was overreacting.

Out of nowhere, Rey heard a scream. It was the king.

"Rey! Rey! Rey!"

"Father, what is it?" he asked coolly. _What is your problem now?_

"Th.. the… the arrow!"

"What about the arrow?"

"There's a message attached to it. It's from Zaft!"

o+

Impulse's horseshoes cackled as Shinn reached base camp. Four of Zaft's twelve army divisions set out to execute the king's orders—to capture Heliopolis. Shinn was chosen to deliver a message to the Heliopolian king. Ironically enough, the prince chose Shinn, who many knew the prince wasn't exactly fond of.

"Shinn, the Commander wants to see you," a younger girl, probably fourteen, approached the soldier.

"Really? Does he miss me already?"

Meyrin's face forged a frown. "I don't think so. He probably just wants to find out how the mission went."

"Peachy," Shinn replied. "It was so easy I was surprised he chose me."

"Weren't you the one saying this was a suicide mission?"

They turned out to see Luna leaning on a dilapidated post.

"Heliopolis was known for its impenetrable defense," Shinn reasoned reluctantly. "Once…"

"Not anymore, I remember the Commander saying," Luna smiled. "Sorry, Shinn, but I think you have to admit that the prince was right."

_Too late_, Shinn thought. _I already did_.

"Fine, let's go to the old prick," he gave up. Luna stifled a giggle.

"What's so funny?" Shinn cracked.

"Shouldn't it be obvious?" Luna burst into short, haughty laughs. _You._

The eight o'clock rays heated the desert plains near Heliopolis when the Commander's eyes flew open. He had fallen asleep, waiting for his messenger to arrive.

"I've sent him away nine hours ago," he thought. Asuka definitely took his time. _Is he trying to faze me again? _

Of all his subordinates, Shinn had to be the stubborn one. The young ensign was never in a position to ignore the Commander's orders, but he'd always show, in some way, his reluctance. In their arguments, the Commander had always managed to maintain his cool, and Shinn had always managed to end up obeying his superior's orders. The son of a proud landlord defeated by the Commander's father in his younger days, Shinn had held a grudge against the Commander.

Despite this, the Commander held no suspicion on Shinn. For one thing, he had talent, skill that has been put to good use in many battles. He was young, reminding the Commander of himself when he was Shinn's age, minus the arrogance. Shinn wanted to redeem his family name and someday get back the land their family lost. Of he proves his worth, the king will grant him his wishes. The land would still be part of Zaft, but at least he could claim some sort of lordship over it. Perhaps he could be assigned as a governor.

"Commander Zala, Ensign Asuka has returned from his mission."

"Enter."

Shinn's muddy boots didn't make much difference on the dirt ground the tent shadowed. He found his commander, Athrun, sitting upright on a desk strewn with military paraphernalia, along with a few weapons.

"You may leave now, Doctor Hawke."

Luna bowed briskly and stepped out of the tent. As she walked back to where her sister waited for her, a blush crept across her cheeks.

_Too bad_, Luna thought. _He's even denser than his armor. _

o+

Had she not known Lacus was a naturally good person, Cagalli would have cursed her to death as she struggled to run across the embedded amber on Heliopolis's sidewalks.

"Why do these roads have to be so bumpy?" she grunted, now seeing the downside to having such ornate roads. "Oh, Lacus, why hadn't you woken me up? I can't be late!"

Her legs ached for rest as she stuttered to a stop. Her shoes had suffered a horrible beating.

"It's past ten already," Cagalli sighed, looking at the doors of the school. "I can't believe I didn't make it to the gates before they shut…"

_Wait a minute, the guards never closed the doors on latecomers. _

"There must have been some sort of mistake," she stammered at the first guard she sighted.

"No, my Lady," the guard said, recognizing the princess. "The school suspended classes by orders of the king."

_The king? Why would he? _Cagalli wondered, not knowing what had really transpired the night before.

o+

"I think it would be wise, my king, to inform the people of Zaft's message," Rey explained. "They have the right to know."

"Are you insane, Prince?" one of the ministers protested. "It would cause an uproar. Pandemonium."

Pandemonium. The beginning of the end.

A small piece of paper remained crumpled in the king's trembling hands. It read:

_To Muruta Azrael, king of Heliopolis, _

_Our troops are at present three miles away from your city. By sundown, we will strike, unless you send an emissary carrying the message of your surrender. We shall wait for your response. If you plan to do otherwise, prepare your men. _

_Athrun Zala, Prince of Zaft, Commander of the Imperial Crusade_

The king's usually trifling expression was now gloomy. The royal seal on the letter proved its authenticity. Zaft, the most powerful military installation alive, with an army of epic proportions, and the reputation to match. Heliopolis wouldn't stand a chance.

_He _wouldn't stand a chance. He could see it, Zaft's clammy hands looting away precious gems from their settings, the libraries and museums going up in flames, the screams, the tears of defiled women.

"Perhaps all is not lost," a voice, angelic to Azrael, spoke.

"Perhaps we can avoid bloodshed," Rey went on.

"Really? Tell me, Rey, how?" Azrael asked eagerly.

"By conceding."

"I beg your pardon?" an old general blurted.

"Concede. You heard me."

"I believe I did not. Are you telling us that we should surrender?" the old general was furious. He knew the army would shrivel at the sight of Zaft's forces, but to submit so easily? The least they could do was defend whatever honor they had left as soldiers!

"Yes."

"Why?"

"And why not?" the young prince answered. "Fighting at this point is useless."

"How dare you?" the old general drew his sword.

"General, stand down!" Azrael burst into a pathetic mass. "Please, don't fight in front of me, I need all of you in these darkest moments."

"Yes, your Highness," the old general sheathed his sword. _Pathetic._

"General, I do not mean disrespect," Rey continued. "But I wish to avoid unnecessary death. What would Zaft do? Loot us? I believe its king would have a lot more honor than that. There must be some other reason."

"What will they do after we have submitted?" the general, now calm, asked. "And how are you sure that Zaft's motive are… honorable as you say?"

"For one thing, Zaft is already a wealthy country. If they wanted to take everything we had," Rey scanned the room to see intent faces, lost, with him as their guiding light. "They wouldn't have announced this attack. They would have just barged in."

The king raised his head. "Is the army that bad?"

_You just realized that?_ "Yes, _father_, I believe so."

The room was silent.

"It would have been fitting for such a dishonorable cause, if they were that low. But the mere fact that they warned us before the attack meant they are a noble race, who will never engage in such notoriety. Therefore, there must be a better reason, better than minor theft. I think it's because of the king's ambition."

"Ambition? Since when…" one of the ministers forced his words.

"That I do not know. This is the first time in twenty years that Zaft had set an attack for Heliopolis.

"I admire your keen thinking, my Prince, but how are you sure?"

"Zaft's commander is King Patrick's son," Rey said, calmly, almost chillingly. "He'd never send his son to dishonor his country."

o+

Meanwhile, a confused princess walked the deserted streets of Heliopolis. This was highly unusual. The plaza had always been filled with miniature symposiums, debates, and discourses—never this empty. The air carried an eerie silence, and Cagalli didn't like it.

It was three in the afternoon. Something was terribly wrong. From behind, she heard footsteps. It was a child. Cagalli turned around, revealing to the boy her amiable face. The boy reached out to her, saying, "Princess!" The kid had recognized her somehow. Was he a noble? She eyed the palace. It was no more than a few feet away. Cagalli was about to approach the boy when a maid rushed to his side.

"Prince Vaughn! I have found you at last, now let us return to the palace," the maid, out of breath, motioned the prince to the palace doors.

"No!" the boy screeched. Realizing his rudeness, the boy spoke softly. "No, Maloue, not until I have had an audience with her Highness."

Cagalli blinked. The boy was…

"Good day, Princess," the boy started with a bow. "I am Vaughn Edelbert Azrael, Prince of Heliopolis, son of Muruta Azrael, King of Heliopolis. It is my pleasure and honor to meet you."

The young prince's voice was shrill, more of a cherubim's than of a human's. Cagalli found him adorable.

"And I, your Highness," Cagalli responded with a curtsy. "Am Cagalli Yula Attha, Princess of Orb, daughter of Uzumi Nara Attha, King of Orb. It is also my pleasure and honor to meet you."

The boy's crystal blue eyes sparkled, his cheerful spirit brighter than Minerva's diamond glow.

"Now that we have been introduced, we may go now, Maloue," and with that, the prince strode to the palace gates.

"How cute," Cagalli thought out loud. "Such a cheerful young boy. What happened? Where is everyone?"

"Princess, you were not informed?" the maid asked.

"No."

"This morning, the king ordered that all residents remain inside their homes. Apparently there has been an attack in the palace." Cagalli's eyes widened. "But it wasn't successful. The attacker, however, left a note."

"What did the note say?"

The maid's feet seemed to have failed her, but Cagalli's arms supported her limp arms. "The note said," her voice was weary with anxiety. "That Zaft had come for Heliopolis."

o+

The hours had flown swiftly. Athrun's eyes rounded his watch—it was only three hours before the sun set over the golden city. His father had told him the city's weakness: its king.

"He's a coward."

Athrun's eyes narrowed. "By that you mean?"

"Just send him a note saying you're coming to town. He'll jump off his trousers."

"What about the rest of his army?"

"The army has deteriorated into a useless heap," the king smirked. "An army without a head is as good as defeated, but an army with a fool for a head is worse than a circus of clowns."

His father's arrogance had always been repulsive to Athrun. But he was a brilliant tactician. _Damn brilliant_.

"They'll probably think your army will loot the city."

"Not everyone thinks the same way."

Patrick Zala was slightly amused. _My son picks up from me…_

"Exactly. Nevertheless, the greater majority has not seen war for twenty years; they'll scramble. If they submit, all is well and good. If they do not, then we attack."

Athrun gave it some thought. _An ultimatum_…

"What about the civilians?"

The king took a good look at his son. "Are you thinking of a killing spree across Heliopolis?"

A short silence ensued. Patrick knew his son too well. _He wouldn't even dare._

"What do you think?" the king asked.

Athrun squinted. Then he finally got it. They were thinking of the same thing.

"The civilians are to be untouched."

"And as for the royalty?"

"If a member of the royalty is found alive, the loyalists will surely cause an upheaval, eventually. For such reasons, all members should be killed."

_Whether or not a country's royalty is loved or hated by its people, killing them off would always be the best option_, Athrun thought. Killing a loved sovereign would also kill the fire in the hearts of his supporters; decapitating a hated one would create a sense of relief among those who detested the man. Either way, it instilled fear and a twisted sense of admiration and loyalty—all of which are very useful for a king.

Patrick Zala smiled. These opportunities were rare, but when they did happen, Athrun always felt disturbed. Smiles never suited his father since his mother died. They had always been filled with a subtle diablerie, hidden in the effluence of his regality.

"Athrun, you've learned well," Patrick rose, patting his son's shoulders. It was an odd expression of fatherly love. To this, Athrun felt uneasy, wanting. His father's hands were empty; he was proud because his son was a good warrior, Zaft's guardian.

Like him.

Athrun got up from his reverie and dressed himself for battle.

He went outside, to his men's surprise, in full battle gear. The sentinels spotted a white stallion speeding towards the array of tents. He was dressed nobly—not in armor though—his golden coat swaying in the desert wind. Stamped on his cloak was the emblem of the golden city.

"The emissary?" one of Athrun's direct subordinates asked. "They surrender?"

Athrun paused. As the rider got closer, the Commander figured the rider was not bringing good news.

"No Heine, I don't think so."

o+

A full hour ago, the uproar had not ceased since Rey left the courtroom.

"My son is right. We should surrender," King Azrael suspired. Soon, he would no longer be king. "Ah, my ancestors must be as distraught as me!"

_Do not defile the memory of the dead, you fool," _the general thought._ This is all because of your incompetence._

"But my king, are you sure?" said a sweet, intoxicating voice.

The court lifted their gaze to see the Heliopolian songstress.

"Lacus Clyne?"

"Yes, your Highness," the lady said sweetly. "I am Lacus Clyne."

"What are you doing here? This is a private meeting," one of the ministers got cut off by the king whimpering at Lacus's feet.

"Oh please, Lady Lacus, save us! Call upon the gods with your angelic voice from heaven! Please!"

_The gods aren't going to help you now, _Lacus thought. " My king, I am afraid I cannot do that. This is a battle _you_ have to fight."

"Me? Why me?" he asked frantically.

"Because you can," Lacus said gently. "Think, my king. Do you even realize why Zaft is attacking you? Why they sent you the letter?"

For a long time, the king was at a lost for words.

"They wanted you to be afraid, like you are now," she whispered into his ear. If it weren't for his distraught, Azrael would have imagined naughty things.

"I am not afraid!"

Lacus chucked. _Liar_. "If you are not then why not fight?"

"What?"

"Do you know what Zaft wants from you?"

"What?" Azrael asked eagerly. Lacus leaned even closer. The entire courtroom was appalled.

"Your territory."

"But Rey said…"

"Forget what he said," Lacus hissed. "Why else would they attack? Heliopolis is extremely wealthy. It's be too tempting."

She let her words rack the king's brain for a while. Soon after, she whispered again, "_Your_ territory. You don't want to lose your kingship, do you?"

Quite often, words of encouragement are better said by women than men. This was one of them.

"Men," the king bellowed. "Prepare your arms. We will set out to battle!"

Behind the courtroom, Rey had heard the whole thing. He hadn't left when he saw a hooded figure make its way to the courtroom.

Walking briskly to the stable, he knew what he had to do. Heliopolis was a city of fools, but they didn't deserve to die for their foolish king. The camp was three miles away. If his horse ran at full speed, he'd reach the camp in an hour.

Thanks a bundle to Rosagiganteacouncil for her support… and to cagalliyulathha for her words of encouragement. You keep me going. Thanks a bundle as well to those who have read up to this chap, whether or not you choose to review. But I didn't say I'd let you off the hook! Review! :)

I know this is late, but happy holidays!


	4. Sun Down

Hello world, again. First things first… happy new year. I was supposed to post this chap up yesterday but my hateful little dial up connection expired on me just as I was doing my final editing… this thing hates me I tell you. It's so bad and evil… does little voodoo thingy with dial-up with dial-up modem

Anyways, I got a better review count than last time, maybe it was the holiday fever after all. Thanks so much to those who reviewed. They mean so much to me.

This is the part where the fic gets a little… er… uhm.. morbid? Yeah, it's a war so there has to be a little blood if it's ever gonna be realistic. I tried to be as artistic as possible when I was writing it up; it's gruesome but not really that stomach turning reminding myself of the T rating. It ain't that bad, actually.. this is what years of patronizing movies like _Gladiator _and LOTR do to you Disclaimer: I don't own them. but I was reading it over and over again, it's not at all that bad. So please don't hate me after reading this, all right?

Oh, and review! That would make me so happy….

Disclaimer: The author of this fic does not own gundam seed/destiny, or its characters, because if I claimed I did, would delete my story—wouldn't it?—and the copyright people will sue me. Any similarities from other fics are purely coincidental, and so are any allusions to real events, places and people.

Chapter 4: Sun Down

As Rey reached the foot of the base camp, his horse was met with a clatter of unsheathed swords.

"Stand down, men," a commanding voice ensued.

Rey focused on the source of the sound, none other than the Commander himself.

_Athrun Zala of Zaft, _Rey thought.

"I'm surprised he sent you, of all people," Athrun started.

Rey felt his jaw drop.

"Prince Rey Za Burrrel of Heliopolis, I presume," the Commander continued.

"I'm even more surprised you know who I am," Rey said, climbing down his horse, noticing the Zaft soldiers. Not even a flinch at the mention of his title. They have been trained. Or was it out of sheer respect for their able commander?

"No man should head his army into a war without knowing who he will be facing."

_This man's aura is overwhelming. To think he's only five years older than I am. His aura is that of a king's_, Rey thought.

"We are waiting for your king's response," Athrun said emotionlessly.

Rey weighed his options. He could say, right then and there, that Heliopolis abstains from war and is to surrender. But the army was already being assembled. There was no way it'd go unseen by Zaft's lookouts.

Rey held his breath, finally motioning to speak, "If we surrender, what will you do?"

He had sounded so sure of himself when he was speaking to the king but now that he was in front of the great Athrun Zala, he had lost a great deal of courage.

"We'd take the city and claim it as Zaft territory."

"And if we don't?"

Athrun was slightly surprised. "You have plans of fighting, Prince?"

There was no hit of sarcasm in his voice; it was more like…

Disappointment.

"Then we shall fight back," the Commander said calmly.

Rey's heart sank, but stood his ground.

"And the civilians?"

"Will be left untouched," Athrun replied speedily.

Rey felt a surge of hope. " Do I have your word?"

"What are you thinking, a ransack of Heliopolis?" Athrun said, slightly annoyed. "We have more honor than that.

Rey sighed. _I was right_.

His mind reeled back to questioning. "What about the royalty? The military?"

Athrun looked at the prince sternly. "It depends."

"What do you mean?"

"You haven't answered my question yet."

"What question?"

"Will you surrender or not?"

Rey blinked. His hopes began to falter again, but he didn't lose them. "If we do?"

"Then most of the royalty will merely be detained. Probably in Zaft."

"Most" meant the king was a goner.

"Depending on how they cooperate," Athrun continued. "Even you and your father maybe spared."

Skipping a beat, Rey's heart was hopeful again. Then it hit him. Hard.

"What if we don't?"

"I'm already giving you an offer I thought you couldn't refuse." Athrun spoke coldly. "I think you understand what I mean, Prince."

A frosted silence stooped on the two men. Everyone, even the sentinels, was all ears.

"The king has decided to attack. He will not surrender," Rey said almost inaudibly.

Somehow, Athrun heard him. "Is your king's decision final?"

Rey wanted to say that he would try convincing Azrael out of this, but he knew it was impossible. The king seemed hypnotized by Lacus's words. The old king of Heliopolis has definitely lost his marbles.

"It seems that you do not know yet what your king would say after hearing this bargain," Athrun broke.

Rey raised his bowed head, defeated. Heliopolis was lost. He looked at the young commander of Zaft. Able, intelligent, honorable…

If only Heliopolis had a king like him… 

You have an hour before sundown. Tell your king that we will be at Heliopolis's gates by that time," Athrun turned his back on the stupefied prince of the golden city. "We will wait for your answer until then. You are dismissed."

_It sounded like an order, as if he ruled the land they stepped on_. With that thought, Rey knew that Heliopolis would fall into their hands. He got back to his horse and rode into the midday sun, with dozens of watchful eyes watching the trail of dust he formed as his horse galloped across the desert.

o+

Back in the golden city, the Heliopolian army began to assemble at the city walls.

"Put thirty battalions at the palace gates, twenty at each museum, five at the school doors! All the rest assemble at the city gates. Make haste everyone! Can't you see we are at war?"

The entire rank of generals stood dumbfound. "But your Highness, we don't have that many men."

"Well, what do we have?" the king asked impatiently.

"Your Highness, all we have are three infantries, two cavaliers, one scout ranger, and five security patrol battalions. That is a total of eleven battalions, Sir," one of the generals replied. Hopefully, the king's math has not yet failed him.

"Good enough. Have them out in the city gates! But leave one or two at the palace gates."

The austere silence meant one thing.

"Well, what are you waiting for? Get to work!"

One battalion had less than 500 men. That meant 5,500 men were to fight against Zaft's maybe 10,000 fully armed, well-trained, _experienced _soldiers. The generals shifted their vision to the Heliopolian infantries being briefed below. They were young—most have never even seen a dead body before. Innocent eyes now stark with the fear of death. These young men were smarter than their king was—at least they knew they didn't stand a chance.

_Run away_, one of them thought. _Just run, no one will blame you_.

"Do you realize what you are asking us to do?" asked one of the generals.

The king looked aghast. "I beg your pardon?"

"You're telling us to send these young soldiers to their deathbed."

"What are you rambling about? Didn't you hear what Lacus said? We'd win!"

"Fool! What does _she_ know about war?"

"Surrender! It's all we can do now."

"Do you want to see all those lives wasted? What would our ancestors say?"

"Dishonor is better than this massacre you're planning."

The generals besieged the king with blames and curses and insults—words that Azrael didn't understand. He didn't even hear them.

"We will not send those kids to war. Fight this war yourself."

The king didn't hear anything anymore. His eyes were fixed on a blue-eyed boy.

His son.

"Father, did I hear it right? You're fighting a war?"

"Yes Vaughn, I am."

They spoke to each other like they were only two in the world.

"Son…"

"Yes, Father?"

"Watch Father win the war."

"Of course, Father! I knew it; you'll win. The people downstairs are lying. You'll win for sure, right?"

His son's voice was an assurance. It made him feel safe, warm.

Strong.

"Yes, my son. Now run along, go to your room. I don't want you to get hurt."

"Sure Father, take care."

The still pale Maloue ran to her young master, taking him to his chambers.

"You're crazy."

"We'll win, I tell you. Even my son thinks so."

"He's a child. Think about your son. What will happen to him after all of this?"

The old general's voice was different now from when it battled with Rey. It was pitiful. He had lost all hope. All he had left now was the desire to protect his city, to protect its children…

"Surrender. For your people."

Azrael's ecstatic movements halted. His eyes were suspended in the general's penetrating gaze. For a moment, the old general's hopes came back.

"Get me my armor! If you won't lead the army, I will. Men, take to arms!" the lunatic shouted from the windows. "We're going to battle!"

None of the generals knew how long they stood there, unmoved. Most of them were young, less than thirty years old. They were too young to have seen Heliopolis's glory days in war, the army that once menaced its neighbors, the last battle with Zaft's king. But the old general saw all of them. He was the oldest—the wisest perhaps. Today, he chose to play the part of the fool, following the instructions of a weakling set on a golden throne. Now, he could do nothing.

_Kill the king and seize executive power, when Zaft was already at their doorstep? What use would it be?_

Had he only known Rey's message, he would have changed his mind.

o+

"I made it," Rey muttered, panting. He had run at full speed, hoping to stop the deranged king from killing the entire Heliopolian army.

"The civilians will remain untouched." If they don't fight, the soldiers are technically harmless to the Zaft army, no better than civilians are. His hopes had been up since his encounter with the Zaft commander, only to be shattered when he found the assemblage of men at the city gates.

"Stop! Hold what you're doing!" Rey called out.

"Surrender and all of you will be spared," he said as he sped through the ranks of nerve-wrecked soldiers. He scanned the guideposts for the generals, but only found their subordinates filling the posts in.

_Damn it, where are they! Where is King Azrael? He should be here with his men!_

"Lieutenants! Tell your men to lower their arms. Zaft will not attack if we surrender!" The sun would set in a matter of minutes. He had to find the king. Rey dashed to the palace, only to find the king placidly sitting in his throne, smiling.

The old general's body lay sprawled on the floor, beaten to a bloody heap. Outside the palace, the younger generals rode furiously to their men.

Rey was overcome with shock, but managed to speak. "What is the meaning of all of this?"

The king's smile disgusted the young man. "Why Rey? Of course you understand, don't you my son?"

"We have no time for puzzles," Rey barked, rushing to the bloody general's side. "Send Zaft a message. You surrender. Zaft will not attack if you do so."

Azrael stuck to his seat.

"What are you waiting for? Negotiate!"

"And let them take my territory? I think not."

Rey was in utter disbelief. "You still believe what Lacus said?"

"Lacus told me I'd win."

"You believe Lacus more than me?"

"You are not a true son of Heliopolis. I was a fool to trust you."

"You're being a bigger fool by being stubborn. Surrender!"

"No!" the king bellowed, drawing his sword. "You dare challenge me? The great king of the golden city? _You're_ the fool!"

Rey was just about to draw his own sword when he heard a battle siren. Both men turned their heads to the window.

Sundown.

"Go…" the old general whispered as the life was being drained out of him.

"This must be stopped," with that, Rey stormed away.

"Guards, seize him!"

Unfortunately, the king sent all of his men to the city gates. At the horizon, he could already see the Zaft army, his perverted courage turning into sheer madness.

o+

Night was coming again. Yesterday, the people welcomed the darkness, anticipating the joyous pageantry of the summer festival. This time, the summer breeze was frigid as fear seeped out of the hearts of the people, through the walls of their homes, their terror emanating from the city fortress.

"Commander, aren't we taking too long?"

The sun had almost set. All four Zaft divisions had been assigned their designated posts. The cavalier platoons lined the frontline, their horses clad in the same iron that protected their heads. Behind them were the infantry men composing majority of the army. Every division was composed primarily of platoons, which together formed companies, that when joined together formed battalions all lined in military fashion. At least ten 500-man battalions formed each division, led by ensigns, captains, colonels, lieutenants, and one commander to give the signal for attack.

"20,000 men posed to strike against 5,000 shaking, freezing wimps."

"Wimps." One man could only use the word in front of him.

"Ensign, get back to your post."

Without another word, Shinn did as he was told. He wasn't exactly disobedient, but most of the time, he'd have something to say. Today was different—they were in battle.

_Look at them, _Shinn thought. _They're scared. We're yards away and I can feel them shiver. The sun's gone; what are we waiting for?_

A few minutes ago, the green shade of the Commander's eyes was overcome by the sun's golden glow. Now the golden hue was receding to cooler shades of blue and purple, as the Commander focused and refocused his eyes on his men.

20,000 men—all under his bidding. They were some of Zaft's best men, all ready to fight, to kill, and to die.

Shinn's estimates were right. By the look of their troops, the army was no greater than 6,000. Even if they did have reinforcements inside—which he highly doubted—it would not be enough to match them in number.

For some reason, Heliopolis had acted very irrationally. He had given them all forms off tolerance, as his father had instructed. _Attack only when the king absolutely refuses to submit. _

Zaft did not want Heliopolis's gold. They wanted the territory, the sovereignty of the land to annex it to the empire.

Rey screamed to the men in ranks as he circled the golden city's army.

"Surrender! By my command, surrender!

All men just stood still.

"What are you doing? Lower your weapons!"

Rey's temper had reached its limits. "Why are you not following my orders? Do you realize who I am?"

He saw it in the soldiers' eyes. They wanted to surrender. The sheer image of Zaft's army at the horizon maimed their courage so badly they practically wanted to run to the far ends of the earth.

"We're all going to die," said one.

"Sir," one of the young generals approached Rey. "By the king's orders, you have been stripped of all princely authority and obligations. We have no duty to follow your instructions now."

Rey stammered at the news, but broke out, "So what if I'm not your prince anymore? Many will perish if this madness continues!"

The moments of silence made Rey think he had convinced the young general.

"If we don't fight, then what _can_ we do?" the young military man cried, bursting into tears. His men sympathized with him, sharing his beliefs.

"Their Commander gave me his word."

"And what makes you think they're telling the truth?"

The man was right. The Commander may have been lying all this time. But Rey saw in those piercing lines of vision that he was a man of honor. Zaft was no thief, no mad race to ransack an entire people.

Before he could say anything else, Rey felt a sharp pang to his right side. Placing a clammy hand on it, he knew he'd see blood. The wound was deep. _Fatal_, he thought. As his limp body fell to the ground, he saw the Zaft army coming closer to view. The perfectly aligned ranks of cavaliers seemed to multiply, a new rank rising from the hill they came from. The gallops became louder; it was then that Rey realized. It was the end for Heliopolis.

o+

First it was just the hard, pounding sounds of the horses galloping, accompanied by the screeching squeaks of armor joints. The blending of the two felt like an undue requiem, one that chilled the very bones of their enemies. They couldn't stand ground anymore. Fear took over them. One by one, the Heliopolian army frontline was reduced to mere buckles in a completely unfilled line, their golden coats torn away by their own comrades' violent efforts to disappear from sight. Soon, many of the other soldiers followed, some hands raised in the air as the Zaft army closed in.

Those who stayed in the front line were killed instantly, blood splattered ruthlessly, their bodies crushed by dozens of horses passing them. Some infantrymen drew their swords, but to no avail. It was now every man for himself: kill or be killed. The remnants of the Heliopolis frontliners, the cavaliers who abandoned their fellowmen drew their swords along with everyone else.

Athrun was in Zaft's frontline. As they closed in on the Heliopolian army, he raised his hand up in the air, waving his sword, motioning his men to pursue the attack—a kind of motivation to show no mercy. In his way was a young frontliner, one of the cavaliers who had not let cowardice get the better of him. Just before the man could wield his sword, Athrun felt his own sword slash through the man's left arm, right across the shoulder, cutting it off. The man's right arm swished his sword with all its might, only to lose his balance. Before he could fall, Athrun had slashed through his chest, cutting his body halfway through, leaving him a lifeless corpse on the desert sand.

In a mad attempt to save their lives, the surviving soldiers ran to the city gates, begging them to open. They were going to be annihilated completely, not one soul breathing. The fear caused them to scrape the wooden gates with their fingers, to the point of breaking the skin that covered them. The flock of golden coats—most drenched in red—blocked the gates, all the more making the Zaft army eager to get them out of the way.

The now packed Heliopolians could only stand defenseless. Athrun's sword sliced off one chest after another, some bodies mutilated, some decapitated, some slashed beyond recognition. His black armor was now covered in blood, his face smeared with it, the taste overwhelming his stomach so much that it felt like turning inside out.

The taste wasn't new to him. It had always been disgusting.

He couldn't care less. He and his men were approaching the gates. They just had to get the obstacles out of the way.

Finally, the gates opened. The remaining units of the once 5,500-man army were now reduced to over a few hundreds.

_If they do not surrender, show no mercy. They must be reminded that we are not playing games. _

The few sentinels who had the guts—and the patriotism—to face Zaft were decimated, reduced to bloody excuses for human bodies. Zaft carried no torches to burn down libraries, no tools to take out gems from their settings, no desire to retrieve any of the city's gold. They had their orders. _Touch nothing; only kill those who are in the way. You're soldiers, not thieves. Do not dishonor Zaft by making a fool of yourself._

Athrun sounded so much like his father that he didn't know who was talking anymore. The Commander spun north, towards the palace where he knew the king would be hiding.

o+

The old general's eyes were tilted upward. He hadn't died yet; he had faced many more brutally inflicted wounds. A blow to the head and a stab to the gut were not enough to send him to heaven—or to hell for that matter. He remembered what the young general had said before he stabbed him. It was twenty youthful men against one aging general. "If we don't fight, then what _can _we do?"

True, there _was_ nothing else to do. Zaft was to come and annihilate the army. What Zaft claimed it'd do, Zaft would do. But it was an honorable opponent. He'd thought about it since he spoke with Rey.

Patrick Zala. The man was cunning—the ultimate schemer, an excellent military man. The old general realized that he was indeed growing old, weakened by many years of peace. He should have realized early on that the king of Zaft would never lower itself to terrorizing a surrendering city. It would have been against his code. How could he have been so foolish?

What would happen to the city now, the general did not know. Zaft was never able to breach Heliopolis until now; few knew what it was like right after it had conquered a nation. Would they kill of every soldier? The people?

He could barely think or move. He had crawled from the king's courtroom to the hallway not too far away. He still had a good view of the arrogant king, sitting at his throne. _Despicable_, the general thought.

_Die, you bastard_.

At the other side of the hallway, the general could see a bulky figure of a man, seemingly approaching the courtroom. He leaned closer, finding out that the man was not at all huge, but a lean trim of a young man covered in iron, masked by an iron cast helmet. Across his chest was the emblem of Zaft.

"Athrun Zala," the general mumbled, no sounds escaping his mouth.

Zaft's prince walked straight ahead, not noticing the dying general who promptly concealed himself from view. In moments, Athrun was face to face with King Azrael. Apparently, the king was humming a song. Its words, however, were a blur; it was more of a melody than a song.

"Lacus," the king murmured.

_What?_ Athrun thought.

"That was one of her songs."

_He seems to be talking to no one in particular._

"My goddess, beautiful."

Azrael continued humming the melody. His eyes were bleak, almost in a trance.

_Pitiful man_, the prince thought, but he heard his father saying, "Pathetic."

_He's not even worth killing_.

Athrun drew his sword, the sound of steel gliding on steel waking Azrael from his dream. The smile he wore faded, his eyes turning from bleak to menacing to petrified.

"You! Who are you?" Azrael screeched as he got off his seat.

The general smirked from a distance. _Don't you see the emblem on his armor?_

Athrun spoke no more. His sword locked firmly in his grip, he aimed for the kill.

_This would have all been avoided if you had only surrendered. And now you're here singing songs, dreaming of a woman!_

His arms were ready to deliver the final blow, when a shrill voice stopped him. Athrun was still a few feet from Azrael.

"No!" a boy flew from out of nowhere. "Don't hurt my father! If you do anything to him, I swear, I'll never forgive you!"

The boy looked incredibly like Azrael. _He must be his son…_

"Stay away from Father, you bad man… you… you…"

_This kid…_

"Go away, you brute!"

_Is in my way…_

"Go away, I said! Go away!"

Azrael's knees fell to the ground. He held his son tightly in his arms.

Athrun realized what Azrael was doing.

"Let go of your son."

" No! Why would I?"

"I don't want to kill him. It's you I'm after."

"Kill… kill… me?"

"Is there anything about that you don't understand?"

"But why?" Azrael wailed. "Why don't you just leave us be? Leave me and my son alone!"

"I can't do that."

"Why not?"

"We offered a bargain. You chose not to take it. This was all your doing, not ours. Now accept the consequences. Stop using the boy as a human shield."

"I'm not!"

"Then what do you think you're doing?"

Azrael's eyes were now teary, red and swollen. The fear from them overflowed.

Young Vaughn felt his father's pain. "Father, are you all right?"

"Yes, my son. It's all right, Father's all right… It'll be all right… all right…"

Athrun didn't know what to do anymore. The boy had no fault in any of this. But he was to kill this arrogant man of a king. That's what he came here for.

_I'd be breaking the kid's heart, but…_"Sorry, kid."

_I have to do this._

Athrun took two more steps, now he was mere inches away from the deranged man. He turned around, shifting to the king's rear, throwing a sharp blow to the man's back. The blow caused the man to gag, releasing the boy. Athrun took another few steps, at breakneck speed, to catch the boy in his arms. Lifting the boy's body, he repositioned his sword at the king's throat. Just as he was about to rip his throat open, the boy's hands wrapped around the blade, causing Athrun to hold back.

"Don't hurt my father! And let go of me!"

Athrun let go; the punches the boy threw at him not really hurting him, but his words took to his heart. _Did this boy love his father so much that he was willing to die for him?_

"My son, come back to me!" Azrael exclaimed as his son came running again into his arms. The boy's bloody hands had to hurt, but he wiped away his tears, flashing an innocent smile, one that pulled Athrun into a pool of memories.

"_Father! Father!"_

"_Athrun! My boy, have are you? Have you been studying?"_

"_It's good to have you back, Patrick. It's so good to have Father back, right, Athrun?"_

"_Yes, Mother! Father, we were so worried about you. We were worried that you might…"_

"_I might?"_

"_Oh, well… never mind. We're just happy your back. But Father, you don't seem all right… you look a bit tired."_

"_Yes, Patrick, is there something wr…Oh, by the heavens, what happened?"_

"_It's just a scratch, that's all. Nothing to worry about… Don't worry Athrun, your father's strong. He won't… whimper th…at easily be…cause of a… Ga…"_

"_Get it treated immediately! Someone, get a doctor…. Hurry!"_

"_Father, will you be all right?"_

"_Yes, Athrun, I'll ju…st have this little wound treated qui…ckly. Let's play a…nother time, is that all right with… you?"_

"_Father, get yourself better first. Who hurt you?"_

"_Oh, it's… just one of th…ose people…"_

"_I'll never forgive them!"_

"_Athrun…"_

"_I promise, Father, Mother, I'll be strong for the both of you. For Zaft! So promise me you'll be better, Father."_

"_Yes, Athrun… I promise."_

He was around the same age as Azrael's son when he swore he'd become Zaft's protector. Back then it was for his father. Now that he was older, it was for his country.

_When I was his age, I'd never forgiven anyone who tried to hurt Father_.

Athrun aimed the sword again. This time, nothing was going to hold him back.

_Close your eyes, kid. I don't want you to see your father get hurt._

He raised his sword. Father and son shut their eyes tightly, both knowing what the blow meant for them.

_Good._

Azrael's right shoulder was torn into two, his flesh cut from the shoulder blade to his gut, slicing his heart that peered through the mangled mass. His son had suffered a similar wound, only smaller. The two held each other tightly; Azrael's hands still clutching the boy's bleeding arms. The pool of red on the floor made their eternal compact, a bloody symbol of paternal love.

At the sound of a nearby figure, Athrun relaxed his muscles, but kept his sword in hand. "Have you been watching for long?"

The old general crawled into view. Athrun spun to face him. "Yes, Prince."

The young commander began to take his heels out of the bloody courtroom when he heard the general say, "What you did… was the right thing."

His footsteps came to a sudden halt. "I killed an innocent life."

"Be…cause you had no… choice. Your intentions… were good."

"Intention is empty without outcome. It doesn't matter if my motives are good or bad."

"If so… then why… did you launch this attack? Know…ing that so m…any lives are killed… don't your motives… matter more th..an the lives… sacrificed? What…ever they are."

Athrun stood still, watching the general struggle for air. There was no use helping him; he'd die in a matter of minutes. "That's different."

"In wh..at way?"

"It's for a better world."

_Are you sure?_ the general would have asked. But seeing the young man's distressed face, the general thought he had had enough for today. _Someone would tell him, eventually. _

"You are an honorable man," he said instead.

Athrun's eyes widened, surprised.

"Take Heliopolis… it's yours,,,," the old general uttered, his breath thin, his eyes losing the spark of life. "Sa…ve… this… city.. p..l…e.ase… P.r..i..nce… Ath…r..un…."

The man's voice faded, relentlessly, as if struggling to say more, but failed. Athrun closed his eyes, muttering a prayer for the dead—the one he did for all the people he killed, in hopes that somehow, those souls could forgive him.

Soiled with human blood to the very joints of his armor, Athrun decided he should be attending to his men. The scent was overpowering. It was time to get back to them, delivering news of the king's death.

Behind the courtroom was another hallway. Shinn had told him that this was another way out of the palace. The Commander sheathed his sword and planted a firm step on the carpeted path, the blood from his boots staining the white carpet with dints of red as he walked.

A few steps in, he stopped. Right in front of him was a white wall. Shinn was wrong.

What lay behind the courtroom was not a hallway but a secret room that led to many chambers. All there was in the room was a dead end and something else…

One that had a pair of eyes staring straight at Athrun, her blond hair covering her fear-stricken face.

There goes chap 4. And I have a little puzzle for you guys. The title _Sun Down_ is not a typographical error ("sundown" is spelled like so). I made up a special meaning to it, other than the reference to the time of the Zaft attack. If you can guess it, you get a free spoiler. The closest answer to the one I have in mind will get the spoiler anyway. I hope you guys respond begs please? Thanks so much for reading.. happy new year!

I have another question.. I haven't been getting PM's or review alerts in my mail. Do any of you have an idea why? very distressed thanks again :)


	5. The Bringer

Hi people. So this is the next chappie… im really happy most of you liked the last chap. And spoiler will go to BuTT3rCuPT3nShi and Canadain-Girl… couldn't decide which one was so close… so I decided to give them both. Thanks for giving it a shot, guys!

Hm.. I got a few reviews saying Lacus was acting all weird.. well, like I always say, I am planning a hundred dozen twists, and Lacus's motives are just a dime in the hundred dozen.

I am so happy to have typed this part earlier, and left with just the editing to do. I'm suffering from a slight state of depression (it's not the hit count, trust me) because of inhuman amounts of stress and schoolwork. Anyway, here's chap 5, hope you guys like it :).

Disclaimer: The author of this fic does not own gundam seed/destiny, or its characters, because if I claimed I did, would delete my story—wouldn't it?—and the copyright people will sue me. Any similarities from other fics are purely coincidental, and so are any allusions to real events, places and people.

oooooo

Chapter 4: The Bringer

The emerald light posts of Heliopolis did not have their usual glow tonight. No gem had its usual luster, perforating the deep black darkness with an ominous, deathly luster that accentuated the sheer morbidity befalling the city. No soul took the courage to revolt, except for the pitiful screams of mutilated men. Tonight, sparkling in the silver moonlight, seemingly oblivious to the demise around her, Minerva's diamond replica was stained in an oozing shower of red.

The blood of her soldiers left pools on the ground, old fountains of life stagnant through human veins. The last surviving one of the generals, the same one who had stabbed Rey, now lay prostrate on the ground, one of the bloody heaps.

His last hours on earth were not to be pleasant. In an effort to save his life, he drew his sword, shaking as he stared into the eyes of his Maker, an ensign of the Zaft army. The swing of his sword made him unstable, falling to the ground. The ensign's face, peering through his helmet, seemed indifferent, no, utterly revolted. He approached the whimpering shell of a man, his sword raised, reeking with blood.

"No…" the general muttered, incoherently, dismally. "H…e…l..p…….me……"

_Aren't you even going to put up a fight?_ the ensign thought, sickened by his opponent. _Wimps_.

"W..aaaa…iit! I… I.. surrender! That's right, I surrender!" the general blurted in sheer panic.

_Have you done that earlier, this would have never happened, idiot_. Disgusted, the ensign decided to take off and leave the distraught man alone. But before his horse could turn around, the general seemed to have snapped, madly racing to him, sword drawn, with a shrill battle cry tearing through his throat.

The general on foot was no match for Shinn on horseback. One swing from his sword and the general came crashing into the ground, ramming his jaw to a piece of embedded marble. He felt his teeth crumble, red specks all over his ghastly face. Like all the others he had defeated in battle, Shinn didn't even bother taking another look at his beaten adversary as he rode off to his superior Heine, to whom he was supposed to report in absence of the Commander.

o+

Cagalli had been in the royal chambers since Zaft began the onslaught. She protested, wishing to talk sense to the king, but Maloue was able to shut the door before she could react. There she stayed for hours, fidgety, uncertain of what was happening outside. When she heard the men scream for their lives, she knew she had to get out. It took a while for her to find the trap door that led to the king's weapons' room—right behind the courtroom.

The soundproof encasement was full of swords hanging from the walls, spears neatly bundled in one corner, all untouched for no one knows how long. Cagalli was almost out the door when she heard armor crackling—someone was coming. She restrained her movements, deciding it was best to stay put, peeking through the golden rails of the wall that stood behind the king's throne. With that, she saw everything: Azrael's death, his son's struggle, the old general's vain efforts to stay alive. She was shocked—damn petrified—losing the strength to move. The deformed figure of the Heliopolian royal family engrained itself into her mind, their killer immortalized as the devil's incarnate himself.

Now she was face to face with him. A murderer.

He took slow, steady steps to her, approaching the very place she stood. Cagalli desperately searched for a way out, her hands clammy with sweat as she gripped the walls for support. Then she remembered what Kira said.

"An attack will not always happen when you are prepared. Be ready at all times. Improvise if necessary."

_Improvise?_ She had swords practically hanging over her.

With the skill she had learned from Orb's best swordsman, Cagalli unsheathed one of the swords from its polished scabbard. Ready to strike, her hands firmly grasped the sword's handle, wary of the possible struggle to follow.

But her eyes betrayed her. They spelled fear.

Athrun was slightly surprised when the girl drew out one of the swords. She _knew_ how to use one. But there was something wrong.

_She's shaking_, he thought. _Scared. Of me? Figures, she just saw me brutally kill a full-grown man and his son. Then she saw the old bloody general die on the floor. It's too much for a girl. But who is she? Definitely not a noble, her clothes are of a commoner. A friend of the prince, perhaps?_

Athrun concluded one thing. _A civilian. _

"Leave the civilians untouched," he reminded himself, out loud for the girl to hear. Then he spun around, walking away.

Cagalli softened her grasp on the weapon. _This guy is letting me go_, she thought. _And he thinks I'm a civilian_.

"Wait."

Athrun stopped.

"Why did you kill them? The king and his son?"

The question perplexed Athrun. No one would really ask him why he killed those he killed. The answer was obvious.

"This is a war."

"And you consider that child a part of it?" Cagalli's voice broke, pushing back the tears that she knew were to follow.

"The boy was in the way."

"You could have asked them to surrender."

"We already did. They refused."

Cagalli was stilled in disbelief. _He would have yielded. He's a coward_.

"Liar."

"Call me what you want. Leave this place. You won't be harmed."

Athrun looked out the window, scanning the ground. His men had sheathed their swords—the battle was over.

Whoever the superior was that took over for the king, he had raised the white flag.

"Drop the sword, though, they'll think you're a soldier.

Cagalli gritted her teeth. This man was a living insult, a humiliation to the human race…

An indiscriminant killer.

"You haven't answered my question yet."

_This girl is stubborn_…

"Why did you kill that child?"

"I told you, he was in my way," Athrun responded, his tone gaining a slight dint of annoyance. _Why am I even answering her questions?_

"That's it? That's the only reason why?" the girl shrieked, mortified, now bursting in tears. "He was a child, for heaven's sake, a child! You… you… you bastard!"

_Bastard. Such a familiar word. How many mothers have called me that?_

"Thank you," Athrun shot back, facing her.

Cagalli expected to see a monster, a demon's face, but she was mistaken. The devil's incarnate took of his helmet, revealing the face behind hundreds of killings, smeared in blood. Cagalli, half-petrified, half-amazed, all the while dumbfounded, was surprised to see that the king's murderer was quite young, his mild visage best highlighted in his quiet green eyes.

Cold, emotionless eyes. Annoyed, but nonetheless composed. His soft, rather feminine features were gentle. No smile formed in his lips, no lust or desire reflected in his eyes. There was only a sense of duty, no fulfillment. He was empty, like an empty post made to carry a burden bigger than the world.

Cagalli's own eyes thawed. She was taken aback by this man's aura, a stark contrast of his image as Zaft's Commander. The emblem on the man's chest finally caught her attention—the design reserved for only one man.

"Athrun Zala," she whispered.

Athrun closed his eyes, the name somewhat a curse to him. "Now I suggest you leave, go back to your home, and tell everyone that it is safe to come out in the morning. You are now part of Zaft territory. A governor from the capital will be sent to rule over you. None of your gold will be stashed anytime soon, but you will be required to recognize the King of Zaft as your sovereign. You will all be able to return to your daily habits in more or less a week, once the casualties have been taken care of. Do as you are told. All who will not abide will be dealt with accordingly."

His words were short and stiff but precise. Opening his eyes, he found the girl staring at the floor, as if it held answers.

"Answer me."

Narrowing his eyes, Athrun felt exasperated by this girl's sheer obstinacy. _Unbelievable._

"Why did you kill that kid? The truth."

He didn't know what to say. No matter what answer he gave, the girl would not be satisfied.

"Can't you answer a simple question, Commander?"

It wasn't satirical. It was a simple, straightforward question.

"If that kid had lived to see his father ruthlessly killed, butchered right in front of him, what would he have done?"

His answered baffled Cagalli.

"I killed him for his own good. He would have lost his sanity if he saw his father in such a state."

Her face downcast a while ago was now raised. Athrun expected the answer to satisfy her questions, but…

"You could have helped him get over it."

Athrun held his breath. Looking up, he often asked the heavens if he was doing the right thing. Then he remembered his mother, his father, and Zaft. "I have nothing more to say."

With that, he turned, his back facing Cagalli, exiting the room.

She stood there for a while, before falling to her knees. Finally gathering the strength to walk, she approached the fallen carcasses, lips now starting to show a hue of green. She muttered her own prayer, different from Athrun's. It asked for no forgiveness, only a wish for their souls' eternal peace. She looked at the boy's innocent face, wiping a tear off one of her cheeks, then slowly descended the long flight of stairs stained with the blood from the Commander's boots.

o+

Silence. No sounds. No voices. None at all. Her feet made no footsteps, her lungs no gasps. The fountains lining the palace gardens spewed not water but blood, the stars shone not light but a strong sense of darkness, glorifying the victors.

The earth's pores oozed with blood. Cagalli's stomach turned, images of the dead royalty bulging at her eyes. Scenes of horrid gore pained her, causing sharp blows to her mind. The scene was mute—Cagalli heard nothing through the stone walls—making it more grotesque, like a twisted stage play of the horrors of hell. At that moment, she had hated the Commander, a terrorist, a murderer..

A mad man.

She finally met with the palace's main entrance, smeared with a fresh handprint of blood. The Commander had been here.

_A murderer…_

Images of the Commander rolled past Cagalli's mind. A dastardly sculpt of a man of black armor covered in the blood of his victims, carrying a sword that caused hundred, no, thousands of lives to perish. A freak of nature with the face of…

_But his face. It was so… gentle._

Then she remembered the Commander's eyes—piercing, cold, unforgiving. They had a different luster in them, not the sparkle Cagalli's eyes were famous for, but a luster of death. He was the Bringer, the great Crusader that brought souls to their rightful places. He decided who lived and who died, how they die and how they survive. No mercy, no excuses, no exceptions.

"He was in my way."

No matter who you are…

"I already did. They refused."

Never get in the way…

"This is a war."

If you wish to keep your life.

_But why do I get this feeling that he's dying himself?_

The many lives that had passed through his hands must have numbed him. He had lost all forms of pity. He didn't care if it was a child, an old man, or a woman…

_But he spared me._

"Leave the civilians untouched" were his exact words.

_Why? Was that pity? Was it unnecessary to finish me off?_

It was as if he had two souls: one the cruel, merciless Commander, the other a lonely lost young man. His heart, a wreck of its former self, sleeping in the recesses of his thick armor, locked away for all eternity.

_He killed the child to spare him the pain of seeing his father dead. It was in a way, a kind of mercy. _

_Mercy killing_, she thought.

The tears were now dry on her cheeks, stinging. She stood confused, weary, and afraid. She knew not the reason; her feet seemed to be glued to the ground, her eyes on the Commander's blood-marked fingerprints.

The palace doors squeaked as if to give a distorted warning to the intimidated Cagalli. It was too cruel to be heeded.

A body, struck with an arrow, had almost fallen over her. He was nailed to the door, just at the opening, his eyes turned upward, mouth wide open. The blood still came gushing out of the wound. He had just died.

_Don't raise your head,_ a voice in her head kept telling herself. But the princess was too stubborn to listen.

Strewn on the ground were bodies by the hundreds, littered on the streets like shells on a gory sea of death. Discarded swords, arrows, and spears lay beside them, some puncturing their bodies, some stuck to sliced limbs. The blood flowed in a grisly stream of blood, filling the engravings on the streets. It was war's work of art, the ultimate display of the Bringer's power.

Cagalli trembled as she walked along the roads, her eyes sifting from one body to the other side… where there was another body with both his legs cut off, to the front… where there were more bodies, most of which lay beside their decapitated heads. She tried to avert her sight from the animosity around her, trying to avoid the upwelling eyes of the dead, until she finally lost balance and fell on top one of them. Cagalli stood up unsteadily, her white blouse now red with blood. The whole city echoed with screams and pleads, perhaps to be let in Heaven to escape Zaft's army.

From afar she noticed some of the bodies being piled up in one of the corners. They were lined tightly, as if encased in imaginary glass coffins preparing for a mass funeral. The men dragging the corpses—some of which were wearing black armor, though most were wearing the Heliopolian white—were dressed in black armor.

_Zaft_, Cagalli thought. Her feet tensed, was she to run?

"Leave the civilians untouched."

Ironically, the Commander's words were an assurance. She walked slowly, passing through the platoon arranging the dead bodies. Cagalli stopped short after seeing a familiar face.

_Shinn!_ she would have said, hadn't she noticed the young ensign's penetrating stare. It seemed to tell her, "Go home."

_He's one of them_, Cagalli thought. Slowly, her steps as if guided by an invisible hand, shifted backward. Her feet started with small steps, to brisk paces, to wide strides. Soon, she was running.

_Where do I go now?_ Then she remembered._ Lacus!_

She hadn't seen Lacus since last night. _Was she hiding the whole time? Was she…_

Hastily, she shook her head. _It can't be. She can't… she isn't…._

"Dead."

Cagalli hadn't realized were her feet had taken her. There were more bodies; the Zaft platoons haven't cleared this area yet. Beside her, a voice caught Cagalli's ear.

"H…e…l..p…..me….."

Bloodshot eyes bore into hers.

"Pl..e…a..se… spa…r..e…. me.."

The voice was faint, dying. The man's neck had been sliced, but the wound didn't cut his windpipe. He was dying out of blood loss.

A painful way to die.

"H…e…l..p..me….." he kept on saying, repeatedly, desperately.

Cagalli froze, lost in the man's state. Never had she seen this much suffering.

Shinn's last attack wasn't clean. He had only slashed the side of the man's neck, enough to disable him, but not kill him.

"Hold on," Cagalli said, reaching for a handkerchief to restrain the blood loss. The blood was still gushing out. She knew she couldn't save him.

"Sa…v..e……me……. f….r..om..them….."

"Don't talk, the blood will flow faster," Cagalli hushed the man. "It'll be all right."

"Z…a….f….t…."

Tears trickling her cheeks again, "Don't die, fight, soldier!"

"N..o…..m…o..r…e………f….i.g..hhttii..ng…"

Cagalli's eyes widened. Fear, shock, and despair disabled her.

"H…a..v…e………m…er…..cy.."

_Mercy…_

"A…t..h..r..u…n……Z…a….l..a……."

The young general died in Cagalli's arms, having released his final breath. Cagalli let go, eyes blank, walking through the bloody streets. The city gates were wide open. She fell to her knees, traumatized by the sight of over 5,000 men dead in front of her.

oooooo

As always, many thanks to those who review and keep me inspired. If there's anything you don't get, feel free to drop a review. I desperately need them.. really. THEY MAKE ME HAPPY AND DEFLATE FROM DEPRESSION! So be nice guys, and tell me what you think :)


	6. The Dream

Hi people. First up, I'd like to thank all the peeps who reviewed last time, they really made me happy. I'm no longer as depressed as last time, but unfortunately, my mind is still doing flip-flops after indulging myself in a reverie of mad electrical and chemical analysis, aka exams. practically going to cry. But since I don't to keep pouncing on you with my personal mishaps, here's the new chap. Mostly story development, unfortunately no AC action, but Cagalli will definitely be a huge jumbo part in this chap.

And for those who may not be informed, I'd like to clear up that infantries are foot soldiers and cavaliers are men on horseback. Just wanted to be sure no one gets confused with that. Anyways, on with the fic.

Disclaimer: The author of this fic does not own gundam seed/destiny, or its characters, because if I claimed I did, would delete my story—wouldn't it?—and the copyright people will sue me. Any similarities from other fics are purely coincidental, and so are any allusions to real events, places and people.

oooooo

Chapter 6: The Dream

It takes ten days to ride from Heliopolis to Orb. At full speed, it takes half that time. Five days after the siege of Heliopolis, her horse landed on lush grass plains, until finally collapsing with its rider.

One of Orb's colonels, Sai Argyle, was patrolling the plains at around the same time. The sight of the rider's presence sent him dashing.

"Lady Lacus!"

o+

"She's been like that for how long?"

"Five days. Since the siege."

"Where did you find her?"

"At the palace gates. Trauma, most likely from the attack's aftermath."

"Why was she outside?"

"We don't know."

"Any chance she'll come to her sense?"

"Only time can tell, Captain Almalfi. As for now, we can only hope that she's becoming stable."

"I see. Thanks, Luna."

Luna nodded, following the captain's distancing figure with her gaze. She knew of no other military man as expressively gentle as Captain Nicol Almalfi, At eighteen, he was a captain of the Zaft infantry, an accomplished writer, and a famous pianist.

_It's hard to believe such a nice guy could be a soldier_, Luna thought. It was easier to picture Nicol in a tuxedo, sitting in front of his grand piano at the Imperial Theater, performing his signature piano solo with the bewitching dance of Zaft's spellbinding stage actress, Clandestine.

Clandestine was Lacus's counterpart in Zaft. The two were often compared: one an angel, one a nymph… one divine, one the embodiment of temptation herself. While Lacus's songs seemed to take her listeners to heaven, Clandestine's voice seemed to allure the imagination, pulling her audience into a maze of tongue-tying seduction. Men fantasized her, the living goddess gracing the world with her beauty and charm.

Luna's eyes shifted to Cagalli, who sat still on the padded sheets of a makeshift bed, eyes staring into nothingness.

"You must have seen too much," Luna told her, knowing she wouldn't reply.

Cagalli's eyes were still bleak. She wasn't even thinking. If it weren't for the sounds of her heart beating, Luna would have taken her for dead when she found Cagalli five days ago.

o+

"31 men from the cavalier, 29 from the first infantry, 16 from the second, and 18 from the third, that makes a total of 94 casualties on our side. As for the wounded…"

Athrun skimmed over the scribe's report as the middle-aged captain read the war's recent statistics. A total of 94 Zaft soldiers died, 103 wounded, 30 of which suffered severe injuries and are currently being treated. No civilians were found dead.

"And as for the Heliopolian army?"

He was talking to no one in particular. The numbers spelled everything out. The Heliopolian army, according to one of its surviving lieutenants, had a total of 5,536 men. Only a total of 391 survived.

The captain continued on to narrate a summary of logistics, medical reports, and a number of other things he thought the Commander might be interested in.

"Very well. You may leave now."

The captain bowed and stepped out of the tent, surprised to see all four of Zaft's division leaders lined up to enter. The Commander apparently wants to hold a rendezvous.

Four of Zaft's most elite military assets faced their commanding officer. His head was downcast, studying a map of the known world.

The known world was divided into four parts. The Northern, Southern, Eastern, and Western lands bounded the central mountain range Eternal Peak. Beyond the landmasses was the endless sea Pallas. Little was known about Eternal Peak and Pallas; the expeditions sent by the world's greatest nations never to return.

Zaft occupied the entire western landscape—its vast territory built by ages of conquest. The country's three major cities, December, Junius, and the capital city Aprilius, were scattered across the land, along with several provinces ruled by local governors. Landforms dressed the landscape in a multifarious array of grasslands, hills, and forests, with several rivers and streams fueling the land with life. For all their plenty, the Aprilians—taken from the name of their capital city—lived comfortable lives, the bounty of nature practically prostrating itself before them. The natural opulence Zaft had received throughout the years were, among other things, a reason to be envied by neighboring countries.

Logos, the snow country, was the strongest of them. Its capital, Copernicus, was somewhere in the Northwest, directly above Aprilius. Its territory stretched across a considerable portion of the North, a barren area of frigid snow. Mostly covered by the snowy mountains, Logos had fewer provinces than Zaft, and fewer resources to go by with. Nevertheless, its military was relentless, and its king, Djibril, was determined to hold claim on one of Zaft's territories. The war between Zaft and Logos had been raging for five years, Logos continuously—unceasingly—on the offensive. That was until three months ago. After Logos's last retreat, they never came back. The last battle seemed to have impaired their army badly, more than half of which were decimated through the years.

The South was quite different from the rest of the known world. There was no one kingdom that dominated the land; it was divided into seven city-states, their territory demarcated by their fortresses. Athrun's army had set out for these cities—they were the first to be annexed to his father's "empire". The fact that they were disunited made them easy to conquer. More importantly, the lack of a conquering nation made them weak. They had neither the knowledge nor the manpower to face an opponent like Zaft.

Heliopolis was the first to fall. By now, word must have reached the other city-states. Would they merge their armies?

_No, the kings of Lunius and Miyercuria are too proud for that, _Athrun thought, looking at the two cities a few miles southeast of Heliopolis, adjacent to each other. Though separated by only three miles of land, never in history have they even begun to consider forming an alliance.

_Huwebo and Sabadoa are diplomatic. They'd surrender if we offered it._ His eyes shifted to the cities located further South. They would have no trouble taking them, as long as they showed they meant business.

Athrun sighed, patting his head. If all went well, the four city-states would be conquered in less than a month, and he won't be losing more than 500 men.

Then his eyes narrowed at the cities of Vierna and Martius. The two cities have been allies for centuries, their armies known to have defeated enemies bigger than themselves, including the old army of Heliopolis. Unlike their neighbors, they had kings who were well versed in battle. They might actually put up a fight.

Most of the East was unclaimed. Naturally gifted grass plains and forests lines the rich virgin soil, the panoramic anatomy of earth carrying an amusing similarity with Zaft's. The East was too far for Zaft to conquer, and the mountains of the Northeast kept Logos from laying hands on the untilled land.

Orb, a small country located far into the eastern territory, took no claim on most of the land. Instead, it concentrated on its own domain, developing into a dynamic and prosperous nation. Its capital, Haumea, housed most of the citizenry and ruled over several villages clustered together around its fortress.

Even his father knew little about the Fortress of the East. They had no idea what kind of king Uzumi was in war, no idea if his son, Prince Kira, made a formidable Commander. The East had—except for a few minor uproars in its history—always been peaceful, protected by natural barriers, ruled by righteous kings.

o+

"You and your men are to set out for the South. Claim territory of all seven city-states, and all adjoining land areas. Then return to Zaft."

Athrun was slightly surprised by the orders he had just received. "Are we not to pursue Orb?"

King Patrick put one hand under his chin, thinking, not lifting his gaze from his son. "No. Not yet. I don't want to send the army unprepared."

"We could send a spy."

"Orb is smarter than that."

"We could send our _best _spy."

The king smiled. "That's what I'm talking about. It has been taken care of."

Athrun had never been informed that a spy had been sent to Orb, until now. Whoever he was, he had to be one of the secret division's best men.

"But why don't we just meet with him when we reach the East? He can inform us there."

This was not like his father. _Why is he being so cautious? Orb's prowess in battle is no doubt dubitable and must be approached with utmost circumspection, but…_

"Their army can't be that big. If it were, we would have found out," Athrun reasoned.

"True, but just to be sure, I'd like you to send your men back to furnish them with supplies. Orb will be attacked with full force."

_This is not like you_. "You must have a better reason. Something I should know?"

Pleasantly surprised, his lips formed a small smirk, before regaining their usual rigor. "Somehow, Orb found out that this attack was coming."

Athrun was silenced, listening.

"I have been informed that they've been amassing supplied for two years now. Chances are they'll send watchers to study our military statistics, strategies, everything. Every battle we confront will be an opportunity for them to learn more about us. I don't want to be caught off guard. That's why I want you to return to Zaft and rearrange the assault army, so they wouldn't have the slightest clue of what will be attacking them."

_Logical,_ Athrun thought. "One more question, your Highness."

Patrick Zala leaned back, eyes still boring into his son.

"What was the point of not telling me until now?"

His father's smile grew larger, more cunning, like a panther plotting his next kill. "To check if you were paying attention."

o+

Athrun looked at the four lieutenants he brought with him: Yzak Joule, Dearka Elsman, Heine Westenfluss, and Rau Le Creuset. They had their differences, but Athrun knew they were fighting for the same thing. He stood up, moving the map to face them, reiterating the same military plan he and his father had talked about over a week ago.

o+

"Now, hold the arrow up like so… steady… steady…. Don't forget your form, Cagalli… Good, you're doing great… Now breathe in, breathe out… calmly… reexamine your aim to see if you got it. Steady…steady…"

Cagalli's tensed muscles began to relax, her breathing becoming more even. She took another long look at the target twenty feet from her, eyes reeling from the target, to the arrow, then to her brother.

"Concentrate, Cagalli."

Cagalli's eyes motioned back to the target, thinking, _Kira, shut up_. _You're distracting me. _

Her lips formed a soft smile. _Then again, I don't mind._

Skillful fingers released the arrow, sending it zooming through the cool summer breeze and piercing the target's black fabric.

"Bull's eye!" Cagalli exclaimed, seeing the arrow protruding on the white spot Kira drew.

"Good job, Cagalli," Kira chirped as he ran his hand over Cagalli's head, ruffling the soft strands of golden hair. "You're getting better."

"Hey stop it, I'm not a cat!" Cagalli argued, straightening her locks.

"But Kira's right, you _are_ getting better," Lacus interposed, approaching the two.

"Perfect aim, I'd say," King Uzumi, who was right behind Lacus, congratulated his daughter.

"Thank you!" Cagalli grinned. "But I still have a lot to learn, if I am to be as good as Kira here."

They were in Orb's open grass fields, standing beside a lake as the sun's rays danced with the sparkling water.

"The lake's beautiful, isn't it?" Lacus spoke, leaning on a tree.

Facing the lake, Cagalli nodded in affirmation. The water was perfectly clear, the fish seen swimming near the surface. The birds glided across it, hoping to catch some of the freshwater munchkins below. Pearly white wings glistened with droplets of water as the birds dove to catch their prey. Water lilies lined the banks, boulders accentuating the scenery. A vast blanket of green seemed to converge with the horizon—where a long line of black-armored cavaliers blocked the…

_Wait, cavaliers?_

Their leader sword raised, opened his mouth, the words released as if muffled by an invisible mask. There were no sounds but Cagalli knew it meant to launch an attack. She shook her father, clasping on his shoulders, forcing him to face the lake and the nearing soldiers….

But it seemed that his father didn't hear her. The three continued to talk, as if Cagalli were never there. She began to scream at their faces, but no sound echoed from her lips. Her hands beat on her brother's back, only to be shoved off. They were laughing, smiling, talking of frivolous deeds, oblivious of the danger that lurked only a few feet away…. closing in on the very place they stood.

Panicked, she burst into tears. It was then that she noticed she was wearing the white blouse she had worn in the siege. Again, it was drenched in red.

The viscous feel of blood stung her skin, but she didn't mind. They had to get away from here. "Run, run!" she mouthed , only to find her voice completely blocked out. All she could hear now were the sound of Kira's laughter…

She looked back at the lake, seeing the cavaliers. They lunged at the water, and by some twisted form of dark art, the water cascading along their horse's legs, the droplets that sputtered on their dark armor, even the trickles smearing their faces were all turning red.

Soon, the whole lake was red. As if by some invisible force, the water began to creep up the soil, approaching her feet. She stepped back, her steps turning into a full sprint, only to find the cavaliers breaking at full speed, creating a giant tidal wave. It swallowed Cagalli whole.

Her eyes flew open, wildly, searing in the sea of red. _I can't breathe,_ she thought. _H..e…lp….me…._

She closed her eyes again, not wanting to expose them to the stingy caress of blood. The blood was too thick she couldn't move. Her arms felt numb, but she knew she had to get to the surface. Running out of breath, she opened her eyes.

There, only a few feet apart from her, was the Commander, his aura carrying the same coldness when she first saw him. Fear escalated through her body, making it harder to move.

"You're in my way."

He raised his sword. Cagalli snapped her eyes shut, waiting for the blow. The fear was too numbing, too overwhelming. It was eating her alive.

But it never came.

She opened her eyes, finding herself back in the surface again. Her breathing was shallow. Bloodshot eyes scanned the place for anyone familiar—her family, Lacus, anyone.

It was too cruel.

Nailed on the tree she was leaning on was Lacus's body, her eyes wide open, their blue shade stained with a rim of red. Her mouth, forming a gap that revealed a few pieces of grisly red teeth, had coughed up blood, now dried into grim streaks on her face. An arrow pierced the porcelain skin across her chest, leaving a diffusing patch of blood on the ruffles of her shirt.

"Lacus, no…" Cagalli cried, her fears realized. Reflex made her step backward only to fall again, this time on top of another body. She shivered, knowing it was someone dear to her.

Words could not explain her feelings. Fear, despair, and pain had strained her beyond her limits; the image of her father's dead body too much to bear. Shoulder sliced in half, down to his chest, his body lay mangled on the ground. His face kissed the now barren, dry desert sand.

"Father?" she murmured, broken. "No…. no…."

The lake was gone, the greenery all lost to some wicked mystical spell Cagalli desperately wanted to be rid of. All she could see now was desolateness and a massacre of her beloved.

The morbidity was too familiar. They were the same wounds Zaft had inflicted on the Heliopolians. Only one man could have done this.

"Dead."

She heard a voice. It wasn't weak nor was it pitiful. It was fighting, unwaveringly, as if desperately trying to restrain the life draining out of him.

"G…o……ru.n…..a….w.ay……"

And he was losing the battle.

"Hur…ry… before the…y… come….."

Cagalli would recognize that voice anywhere.

"C..a…..g…a….ll…i…"

This time, it wasn't light or calm or placid. It was hoarse, fading….

Dying.

"Kira!"

She rushed to him, whose neck was now slashed—but not enough to kill. Kira was dying of blood loss.

"Ca……ga….lli…"

"Please Kira, don't talk anymore," she wailed, the tears flowing uncontrollably. "Please, don't die… Kira!"

"Ca…ga…lli…."

The last words left his mouth, a final farewell to his beloved sister, and a brutal stab to her already beaten heart.

_He's… dead._

The words were ringing in her ears.

_And I… was helpless…_

All of them… gone.

_I'm pathetic, this is all my fault!_

She was not to blame.

_But he did all of this. He… murdered them. _

Her eyes had lost their iridescent sparkle. She had lost everything. All that remained was emptiness, and the desire to….

_That bastard._

Punish him. One man had to atone for her loss. And she would take him on.

_Die…_

She wanted him dead—by her own hand.

_Die, Athrun Zala!_

o+

The moon was shining once again over Heliopolis. Lunamaria Hawke, the Zaft army's resident head doctor, was sleeping peacefully on a bench right in front of Cagalli's makeshift bed. She had been watching over the girl for a few days now. Zaft had set up base camp not too far from Heliopolis's gates. The corpses that had littered the streets five days ago were properly buried, the city now mourning for their loss. In two days, the Zaft army would set out again, this time, for Lunius.

"Luna! Luna!"

A groggy doctor woke up to her sister's nudges.

"What is it?" she yawned, slightly fazed.

"I'm sorry I woke you up, but I thought you wanted some soup. You haven't been eating much."

Being head doctor, Luna had been busy treating critically wounded soldiers. Luckily, there weren't that many casualties yet, but the number of soldiers that needed her attention was enough to keep Luna awake for hours without end, barely eating, barely leaving the confines of the medical quarters.

"I'm fine, just fell asleep watching over Cagalli."

"Don't push yourself alright? The head doctor shouldn't get sick, you know," Meyrin joked.

"Sure," Luna smiled, amused by her sister's concern. "You better get some sleep yourself."

"Uhm, Luna?" Meyrin whispered, scanning the room. She hadn't noticed it until now. "Where's Cagalli?"

Realizing that something was drastically wrong, Luna got up and bolted to the open desert air, her sister hot on her heels. Cagalli had just snapped back to her senses.

And she was missing.

oooooo

And that is chapter 6. Chap 7 will be a very amusing chapter, I can give you that. still looking for the calculator I lost last Saturday Again, thanks for the people who have been reviewing, and thanks so much for bearing with me. Have a nice day, people.


	7. Heaven's Whisper

Hi! Sorry this had to come a bit later than I said it would, but I just got finished with my exams and a really tedious paper to submit. I hope you all like this chap, I really tried to make it… well, pleasing.

I know it kicks off weird, and I think some people didn't really catch what the last part in chap 6 meant. So you don't get confused anymore, it's a really bad dream. Hence the title. Now that's all cleared up, on with it!

PS: all asucaga fans, I know you will be very happy in the end of this chap.

Disclaimer: The author of this fic does not own gundam seed/destiny, or its characters, because if I claimed I did, would delete my story—wouldn't it?—and the copyright people will sue me. Any similarities from other fics are purely coincidental, and so are any allusions to real events, places and people.

oooooo

Chapter 7: Heaven's Whisper

"Why did you kill that kid?"

_Because I had to. Is that so hard to understand?_

"Can't you answer a simple question, Commander?"

I already did. I had no choice. It would have been too cruel to let him see… 

"You could have helped him get over it."

Silence.

"Why don't you answer back?"

_Because… I did the right thing._

"Killing hundreds of people is a good thing? Thousands, perhaps?"

No! I mean, yes! I mean… 

Silence again.

_It was for Zaft. _

"Liar."

He stood there, empty, lost, confused. Her words berated his ears, torturing him.

"I'm doing the right thing, right, Mother?"

Silence.

"Answer me, Mother…"

Silence again. No one was there for him.

"Mother!"

"See? Even your Mother in heaven is damning you."

He turned around to find the blond girl from the siege, staring at him angrily.

"Do you even know why you killed all those people?"

It was a question he's asked himself many times. "For Zaft."

"To protect it," he assured himself.

"Are you sure?" her voice was perforating.

She was Athrun's conscience.

"I… I…"

"Say it, you're scared."

Athrun looked up. The girl's eyes were now calmer. In them was pity.

"I pity you. You're a lost soul without anywhere to go, without anything else to do. You feel like you've lost everything, so you're desperately trying to protect what you still have."

"Zaft," he mumbled.

"Yes. But do you seriously think you're doing the right thing?"

"I'm protecting Zaft."

"No, you're killing hundreds of people who haven't done a thing to Zaft."

"No…"

"Why? Wait, do you even know why?"

"I… I don't know…"

"What do you mean you don't know?"

"I don't know… I just don't know! Stop confusing me!"

A smile formed on her lips. Her eyes narrowed into devious slits, forming a vicious expression Athrun couldn't understand.

"Murderer."

"No…"

"Murderer. Monster."

"I'm not, I'm not! Stop it!"

"Why? Can't you take the truth?"

"Lies. I'm not a…"

Blood came out of nowhere, dripping on his face, down his shoulders, seeping through his shirt, down his arms, finally covering his hands…

"You're the liar! Look at your hands."

"Tainted by our blood…"

"You took all our lives…"

"Murderer."

"Murderer!"

"You killed us!" a figure behind him spoke. It was Azrael.

"How many lives have you taken? Ever care to count?"

"You deserve to rot in hell."

"Murderer."

o+

The last voice, a child, the same who died in his father's arms, woke Athrun up from his dream.

He sat up from the ground he laid on, panting, the fabric of his shirt clinging to his chest, the sweat dripping from his face. His dreams haunted him often, banishing him for his sins. He shrugged it off, telling himself…

"It's just a dream. Go back to sleep."

His head tilted back to the ground, humming a melody to make him sleepy again. Images if the siege rewound in his memory, including the girl's petrified face.

Five days ago, Luna had informed him that a civilian was sighted at the palace gates staring blankly into nothing, unable to move. He figured it was the girl he had met in the palace.

_To see 5, 000 men dead right in front of you. I'm surprised she hadn't lost her sanity yet. _

But he figured she was a little stronger than that. Her strong, forceful statements, though muffled by tears, were so intense that even he, the Commander of the world's most able army, was struck. Her eyes, fiery embers glowing with passion, spelled fear, but no one could miss the tenacity in them.

There were only three people who deliberately stared Athrun in the eye: his mother, his father, and Shinn. One of love, one of an inexplicable sense of manipulative-ness, and one out of sheer dissent. That was before this crusade.

The fourth was this girl. But her eyes carried no malice, no cruel intentions. He knew she was angry, but those eyes were not piercing. Covered in tears, they were questioning, as if looking for a justification.

Athrun took the dagger he always kept with him just in case an assassin came. His face's reflection gleamed on the blade, illuminated by the moonlight peering though a hole in the tent.

_Is there something about my face?_ he thought. Surveying it, he touched his forehead, his pale cheeks, his finely sculpted chin…

His mother had always told him he was good-looking.

"_Honestly, son, you'll grow up to be quite the ladies' man."_

"_You're such a lovely little thing, I'd probably fall in love with you," _he remembered Lt. Elsman's jokes when they were young.

"_You don't even look the part. You're too nice to be a soldier."_

"_Father?"_

_Too nice,_ Athrun wondered. _Was I? Not anymore. _His father told him he was "too nice" when he was fifteen, a full year before his mother died.

"_Patrick, don't push Athrun too much. He's doing his best."_

"_Unfortunately, his best isn't good enough."_

"Not good enough," he mumbled. _Well, look at me now. How many battles have I won for you, Father?_

His eyes slowly drooped, his thinking lulling him back to sleep.

_Oh, let me correct myself. Not for you, but for Zaft._

o+

Her steps were light, their sound barely audible. None of the Zaft soldiers could hear her approach the tent that housed their slumbering leader. She opened the flaps, seeing the Commander sleeping soundly on the ground, a rug underneath him.

Her hands were still, her eyes frigid icicles. The wind was silent tonight, as if whatever made them held his breath, anticipating the kill. She stepped into the tent, closing the flaps behind her. Slowly, stealthily, she pulled out a dagger.

Images of the siege continuously fueled her cause. This man must die.

_No more fighting…_

This will end all of it.

She approached the man, who was still in his covers, his face illuminated by the argent moonlight. . The silence, deafening, stung her ears. She was in a trance—a deep fatal trance.

_You'll never get them… not anywhere near them…_

She knelt down, raising the weapon.

_You'll never hurt any of them. Not them, not anyone! _

The assassin… was ready to strike.

_Die, Athrun Zala!_

A mind-ripping swish trailed the dagger's deadly path, accompanied by the eerie resolve of the Commander's psycho-assailant. The wind was knocking the air out of her, pounding through her skin, shaving her soul out of her body. It seemed to urge her, saying, "Stronger, strike stronger!" The sound was redundant, her ears burning in a twisted cycle of rage and derangement. Her heart throbbed furiously, as the dagger sunk further and further… a shimmering shard of solid steel about to puncture though the Commander's unprotected neck.

The dagger met with flesh, but met no blood. The girl looked over her prey, only to see his eyes locked firmly into her figure, his hand holding her own as it stopped the gleaming blade from piercing his throat.

She shook her hand off his grasp, her face hidden by the shadows—the moon rays were enough to outline her figure.

He wouldn't let go.

She shook her hand again; this time, stronger, panicked.

Still, she couldn't break free.

As a mad attempt to break free from the Commander's clutches, she aimed a punch at his face, but just as her fist was mere inches away from its target, the Commander promptly blocked it with his free hand. With a rapid maneuver of her trembling limbs, the assailant positioned her knee to aim at the Commander's gut, hoping to knock him out. She shifted her weight on one knee, the other aiming for the blow, her two hands using the Commander's outstretched arms for support.

She was now on top of him. Her movements were fast, but the Commander was faster. Right before she could land the blow to his belly, he let go of the hand holding the dagger. She never saw it coming. Her hand came slamming to the ground, slightly turning her off balance. This the Commander saw as an opportunity to grab her neck with his free hand and land his knee on his assailant's midsection. The blow weakened her, causing her supporting hand to fail. She fell directly on top of him, the pain too sharp she could not get up quick enough to land another attack. Feeling something soft pressing on his chest, the Commander soon realized…

_A girl? _he thought, puzzled as he flipped her frail body to face him, pinning her down.

Out of instinct, he grabbed the girl's dagger and aimed it at her head. Taking a good look at his attacker's face, it seemed incredibly familiar.

When she opened her eyes to reveal their golden amber color, he knew it was the girl from Heliopolis.

"You," he muttered. _An assassin? Was she sent by the loyalists?_

Cagalli lay frozen in the Commander's hands, not knowing what to do. The voices recanting her demented resolve had faded, as if abandoning her to perish in the devil's hands. All that remained in her was fear—she had to get out of here. The dagger hovering over her head meant she'd be dead if she did anything funny.

_In desperate situations, you have to take chances. If you see an opportunity, take it. It may kill you, but most likely, it'll save you. Trust your instincts, Cagalli._

Cagalli heeded her brother's advice. She took her chance, held her breath, and raised her left foot in the air to hit the Commander in his most vulnerable spot.

The Commander felt her left foot move—his instincts telling him she was trying to disable him beyond recovery. He got off of her, leaving her left foot flying in the air. She instantly recoiled, using the momentum to push herself up.

Cagalli rushed to the flaps of the tent, her feet sailing across the desert sand.

o+

The granules of weathered rock pricked her feet—which were bare—as Cagalli made a frenzied dash to escape. She shoved deep gasps of air, hoping to alleviate the pain from her shallow breathing, but to no avail. The trance that had consumed her when she planned to kill the Commander had disappeared. The siege, leaving her mentally unstable, was still ripe in her mind.

All traces of vengeance were gone now, the fear clasping her flesh in a crushing deadlock. She knew what the Commander could do to her, and she knew…

He would not hesitate to do it this time.

All she wanted to do now was run. She could neither think nor feel, her movements more of instinct than anything else. The panic continued to incapacitate her, completely blocking out her senses. She knew she tripped at least twice, but fear of the Commander butchering her put her back in full sprint. She heaved each breath loudly, the gasps seeming to echo in the quiet desert night. Desperately, Cagalli kept running, until her feet felt there was no more land to land on—the space bordered by a thirty-foot cliff stopping her on her tracks.

_Hell, _she thought, looking at the endless abyss below. She spun around, looking for another way, but to her horror was the sight of Zaft's commander.

Athrun had been chasing the girl for quite some time. She finally stopped at the cliff edge. _Thank goodness_, he thought.

Dilated pupils, trembling hands, disorientation, and irrational actions—they were all signs of trauma. Extreme trauma produced hallucinatory visions, and sometimes, a temporary trance where a person momentarily loses sanity. Very extreme cases though, could cause permanent insanity.

_She doesn't know what she's doing_, Athrun told himself. _Don't do anything rash; it might make her jump off the cliff. _

"Listen, I won't hurt you."

He took a step further, only to find the girl taking a step backward herself.

_I'm scaring her_, he thought. How he wished he had a mask on his face right now. _I'm probably the devil to her._

He took a step backward. "There, I'm going away. I won't hurt you. See the distance? Now step forward. Step away from the cliff."

It took a while for her to absorb it, until her muscles finally relaxed. _It's working_, Athrun thought. He took a few more steps backward. The girl followed, taking small steps away from the cliff. Her body was less tense now, her breathing a little easier than before. But she was still too close to the cliff edge. Athrun thought it was best to just leave her.

"All right, I'm leaving now…" he said cautiously, afraid to trigger anything. _Maybe someone would find her and help her get over the pain. _

_But that will definitely not be me._

"You're safe now, I'm going away," he said again, hoping it would keep her calm. He continued to walk backwards until he figured it was safe to turn his back and walk away.

"He's gone," Cagalli mumbled, her feet glued to the ground. "I'm still alive."

Relieved, she momentarily let loose her stiff muscles. She leaned back, thinking there was a wall. It was a fatal mistake.

A screeching scream spun Athrun back to face the cliff. The girl had disappeared.

o+

It was just like her dream—unable to breathe, struggling in the darkness. The water was not thick but something was restraining her movements as she struggled to get to the surface. She closed and opened her eyes repeatedly, only to meet darkness every single time. The strong pulses of water blew the wind out of her. Her lungs ached for air.

_I'm going to die…_

Cagalli's lips let out a vain attempt to call for help, but the sound was muffled by gurgling water. She lost more air in the process.

_H..e..l..p…._

A figure plunged into the water, the sudden splash blurring her vision. She could not say who it was, but from its form she could tell it was a man. _Is he coming to save me?_ Cagalli thought. The breath she held wanted to burst out of her lungs. She could just let go, let the water in…

_No… I can't… Father… Kira… La…cus…_

Her lungs could hold air no longer. She finally let her mouth open, knowing the last puffs of air would leave, taking with them her life. It was then that she felt a pair gentle hands hold her by the shoulders, telling her not to give up, and a warm, tingling sensation on her lips.

The surges of air were steady, not forced. They were warm, rekindling her numbing body, slowly reopening her faculties. No words were exchanged, but Cagalli could feel someone tell her,

"You're safe. Calm down… breathe in… breathe out."

She did as she was told. It was like heaven's whisper, bringing her back to life. Her senses were no longer foggy; her mind, formerly adrift in a psychotic fit, was now clear. For the first time in what she felt was forever, she felt safe again. Somehow, she was able to open her eyes.

Her savior had closed his mouth immediately after breaking the contact. He pulled away the river vines that had tied Cagalli to the bottom of the river. The man pulled her to the surface, where they both broke out gasping for air. Her body went numb again, too tired to carry herself back to the river bank. Dragging the girl back to solid land, the man climbed up the shore, his head hanging from his head—very exhausted.

Cagalli lay on the soft mud for a few minutes. She was still dazed, but she was definitely back to her old self. The trauma's effect had dissipated. It may have been the water, the near death experience, or…

Heaven forbid. The kiss.

Whatever it was, she was no longer the Commander's psycho assailant. The Zaft prince had saved her…

With a kiss.

Her eyes now bore into the night sky. The things that have happened since she left home, the events of the past week, all seemed to happen so fast. Has Orb received news of Heliopolis's downfall? Was Kira looking for her? What happened to Lacus?

Still on her back, her eyes rolled along her surroundings, until they finally met with her savior's figure. Noticing that finally, he had her attention, he motioned to speak.

"Who sent you?"

She sat upright, half-angry, half-startled by a sudden inquiry. But Cagalli maintained her composure. "No one."

"Tell the truth."

"Are you accusing me of lying?"

"No."

"Then what do you mean?"

"I never said you were lying. Does that mean you are?"

"Of course not!" she said, her patience snapping instantaneously. "Don't answer my question with another question. What was that for?"

"Just checking if you were back to normal."

Cagalli's bickering halted. After a few moments of silence…

"Why?"

"Don't ask vague questions, they make no sense."

"I'm not!" Cagalli hissed. Then her eyes softened. "Why did you save me?"

The Commander, who all this time was staring into the murky waters, turned his head. "What kind of a question is that?"

Seeing her serious countenance, he supposed this wasn't a joke. "You asked for help. I came to your rescue. Is that a crime?"

The answer surprised Cagalli. "That's it?"

He looked back at the river. "Why do you always find my actions so simple?"

"I tried to kill you."

"You were out of your mind then."

"You have no obligation to save me."

"Do you need to be obligated to someone to save her?"

"No…"

"Then that should answer your question."

Cagalli was silenced, unable to find the words to describe this man. There were so many sides to him, she now knew not which one was the real prince of Zaft. But right now, it seemed that it was not the Commander who faced him, but the prince who—she knew this much—his people loved.

"I'm sorry."

The sudden words surprised Athrun. When he faced her, her eyes were downcast. "I said, I'm sorry."

"Sorry for what?"

"For everything I told you. For insulting you. For calling you a bastard."

Dumbfound, he could only listen.

"You're right, this is a war. People die. Your only fault in all of this is that the people die by your hand."

Cagalli looked straight into his eyes. _Can she read through me?_ Athrun thought.

"You're a tool, a weapon. You're not the person who decides who gets killed and who doesn't. You're just following orders."

He blinked, surprised at how keen her thinking was.

"I know enough about Zaft politics to understand that you," she paused briefly, making sure she speaks clearly. "are just the army's Commander. The orders come directly from Zaft's king, Patrick Zala. You father."

_Unbelievable_, he thought. _She's not psychic, she can't be!_

"Right?"

"How did you know?" he asked, hiding his amazement.

"Let's say I'm a very learned Heliopolian."

"Heliopolians are learned but not that wise."

_I'm wise?_ Cagalli thought. She would have thanked him for the compliment had they been in different circumstances, but it seemed that the prince was seeing through her lie.

"All right, this time, _I_ lied. I'm not from Heliopolis.

"I've realized that quite recently, actually."

"I'm a traveler."

"Excuse me?"

"I said I'm a traveler," Cagalli reiterated, reminding herself that this was to be her identity for the time being. Hopefully, her knowledge of the known world was enough to fool him. "Visiting cities, school, historical landmarks, that sort of thing."

"A travelling scholar, I see."

"Yes." Inwardly, she let out a sigh of relief.

"From?"

She never saw the question coming. The first place that came to her mind was, "Orb."

_The fortress of the East_, Athrun remembered. It seemed like the perfect opportunity.

"Orb? The eastern country?"

"Yes," but inside her she frowned. _Of course, you dummy, don't you know your geography?_

_Should I ask her details of the terrain? How big their army is? Maybe she has met members of the king's court…_

Athrun weighed his questions, thinking of the one that would incite the least suspicion.

"What's Orb like?"

Cagalli was slightly disturbed by the frankness of the question, but she figured he was used to few words. "What do you want to know?"

"Everything you can tell me."

The girl thought carefully, _Why was he so interested?_

"It's a small kingdom located 30 miles off Eternal Peak's border. The fortress makes up the capital, ruling over 27 villages."

_I already know that_, Athrun thought. "What are the people like?"

Cagalli raised a furrowed brow.

"I'm curious. Not too much is written about Orb."

"Half of the world's books are published in Orb."

"But not too many about Orb itself," Athrun cut her. "Few about its people, their origins, the royalty's history…"

"That's what you want to know?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"I said I was curious."

"You're not the type," Cagalli seemed to know he was lying. "Is this an interrogation?"

Athrun narrowed his eyes at the small rise in her tone. _She must be psychic_, he thought. Her mouth was opened, as if to say more…

"Ha…"

What is she going to ask me? 

"Ha…"

If she finds out about the forthcoming assault on Orb, she might find a way to… 

"Ha…"

_Inform their king. _

"Ha… tchoo!"

A sneeze? 

"Sorry, that was rude of me," she said, rubbing her nose.

_She's soaking wet, how can I forget?_ Athrun realized. As the Commander stood, facing her, Cagalli saw something she never thought possible.

Smiling, Athrun tossed her his coat, which he had managed to keep dry when he jumped off the cliff to save Cagalli. "It'll keep you from catching a cold. We should get back now."

Cagalli just stood there, unsure.

"Unless, of course, you have somewhere else to go."

With her head bent, she wrapped the coat around her shivering body, relishing the warmth it offered.

It's still hard to believe that someone like him could be so… 

_Warm. _

"You're a good person, Commander."

They had reached base camp. This was the last thing Athrun expected.

"You barely know me."

"That's how good you are. I don't even know you, but I can tell you are a good man."

The last person to call him a good man was his mother. Since his mother's death, his world has been full of lies, deceit, pain, and ambition. He was a good commander to his men, a good prince to his people, a good subject to his father, but never again was he called a good person.

He didn't deserve it.

Athrun shrugged off the thought. _Let her think what she wants, but in the meantime…_

"Your name."

"What?"

"Your name. You know mine, shouldn't I know yours?"

The idea of someone asking her name made her giggle inside. She was so used to having other people introduce her to their guests in the palace that she could not remember the last time she introduced herself.

"Cagalli."

He turned briskly, heading back to his quarters. "Very well. The medical quarters lies farther to you right," he said over his shoulder. "It's the only green one among the black tents. You can't miss it."

o+

Opening the flaps of the head doctor's tent, Cagalli found Luna checking a few books, worried.

"Uhm, Luna…"

Luna's head jerked at the sound of Cagalli's presence.

"Cagalli! You… you're back."

She nodded, the sign Luna had been waiting for since five days ago. Cagalli was back.

"Are you hurt? You're soaking wet. What happened?" Luna asked, furnishing the princess with a set of fresh clothes.

"I'm fine, Luna," Cagalli answered. "Sorry if I worried you."

"It's alright. You're safe and that's what matters. Here," she said as she tossed Cagalli a blouse and a pair of trousers, the same kind she wore.

_Thank the heavens her trauma was temporary_, Luna thought, as she watched Cagalli sleep soundly. She looked so peaceful now, her golden tresses sprawled on her supple cheeks. A smile played on the sleeping beauty's lips, the moonlight dancing with her radiant face.

"I know you miss home," Luna whispered. "When I'm absolutely sure you're better, I'll send you back."

Picking up the damp clothes Cagalli dumped in a corner, the doctor unfolded each, wringing out the excess water. When her hands touched the coat's fabric, its texture seemed all too familiar.

"A Zaft coat? How did she get one? I'll ask her in the morning."

Luna had not looked closely enough. Had she seen the Zaft royal emblem on the coat's collar, she would have yanked Cagalli out of bed, and battered the poor girl with questions about her encounter with the Commander.

oooooo

There. I know this chap's short and not exactly the best, but hey, I tried. The whole psychotic fit is something I made up, not based on anything from the medical books. I know it doesn't sound all too realistic, but the idea, as I told another reviewer, was too good to abandon, so I decided to stick with it. Please tell me what you think about it :)

Oh, and many thanks to these people for all their help and support: Air Striker, Silvatine, Sushi-alphonse, Canadain-girl, rosagiganteacouncil, and darthvader09. Please review, people. Thanks!


	8. Early Mornings

Hello people. Sorry I haven't updated last week, been really busy and I just finished proofreading.

Here's a completely different chap, I think. Hope this sits well with everyone. Oh, and if you don't know Arthur Trine, he's the dopey looking guy who follows Talia around in Destiny. He's really weird, so I put him here. Happy reading.

Disclaimer: The author of this fic does not own gundam seed/destiny, or its characters, because if I claimed I did, would delete my story—wouldn't it?—and the copyright people will sue me. Any similarities from other fics are purely coincidental, and so are any allusions to real events, places and people.

Oooooo

Chapter 8: Early Mornings

"How is she doing?"

"She's still unconscious, your Highness."

"For how long?"

"Almost a day. But her fever has subsided."

"Thank goodness."

As he watched the angelic maiden asleep in the medical ward, Kira felt his heart crushed. Colonel Argyle had found her unconscious in the grass fields, beaten by the desert wind. From her thinning cheeks, the doctors concluded she hadn't eaten or drunk for days.

"Lacus…"

It pained Kira to see the songstress in so much pain. He'd grown to have a fondness of her, at first because his sister kept babbling about her magnanimity, but as the days passed by, the prince saw her as more than the philanthropist. It was an inexplicable feeling of lightness and peace—she was the angel that through her words sent him to glimpses of heaven.

"Please bless her," Kira prayed. _Please let her heavenly eyes witness the beauty of the world she loved so much. Please…divine one… please…_

The Divine was listening. From underneath her covers, Kira heard a faint creaking sound. Her breathing shallow, as if she had exhausted all her strengths in one perilous struggle, Lacus awakened to find herself in the arms of the joyous prince.

Seeing the couple reunited, Lt. La Flaga felt his prince's bliss emanate from the curtained cubicle. A smile playing on his lips, he exited the ward, thinking of a certain equestrienne that he had met two weeks ago.

o+

It had only been a week since the princess had left, but her mare, Rouge, missed her dearly. La Flaga had been taking care of the white beauty, a present her father had given her three years ago.

The horse neighed, yearning for her master. La Flaga patted her mane, hoping to calm her down.

"I know you want to see her, but bear with it for a while. She'll be back soon," he comforted. Rouge responded meekly to La Flaga's loving hand, as if she understood.

The lieutenant stepped out of the stable, taking a deep breath of fresh air. The sun had just risen.

"Nothing like a good old horseback ride to start the day," he thought out loud—quite loud—as he climbed on his own stallion.

He started doing laps around the grazing fields, relishing the morning dew. Not contented, his horse jumped off the fence, out into the open fields. Galloping across the fields, he felt free, remembering the races he, the prince, and the princess had in the open fields. When the prince was young, the lieutenant would always win, but now that he was older, Kira would put up quite a race. Cagalli never fell behind that far. Sometimes, King Uzumi would join them in their gallops, riding behind as he amused himself with their childish whims.

Today, none of them were around. The smile on La Flaga's lips soon faded. This was no fun without them.

As soon as he suppressed speed, a husky gallop beat the ground. La Flaga looked behind him to find a figure of slight frame riding towards him at full speed. When the figure ran past him, his nose picked up on the rider's scent—a very costly perfume.

_A woman?_ he asked himself. Her riding was extraordinary; she must be professional. Intrigued by the challenge and by the woman's mysterious charm, La Flaga followed her, gradually gaining pace. He sped up, finally to catch up with her.

"Good morning, my lady."

The lady took no notice and continued galloping. This time, fast enough to leave La Flaga behind. The persistent lieutenant kicked his horse to run faster, finally reaching the lady's swift pace.

"Quite persistent, aren't we?"

"Not at all, I was just going the same way."

"Why the speed then? I deem it highly unnecessary to tire your horse like this."

"I also deem it unnecessary for you to gallop at full speed and tire your horse. Are you by any chance trying to run from me?"

"I beg to differ, sir. I believe it is you who are following me. I'm simply going my way."

"Let's say I am. Does it disturb you?"

"Well as a matter of fact it does. That's stalking, you know."

"But I've just met you."

"We haven't even been properly introduced."

"Very well then. I am Lt. Mwu La Flaga of the Orb first cavalier division. It is my honor to meet you, my lady."

"Your frankness is appalling."

"True? Thank you."

"That was not meant to be a compliment."

"The mere fact that you have granted this lowly lieutenant your audience is already an honor."

The lady grinned, "A true master of flattery."

"I believe that was a compliment?"

At the wave of his last words, the lady's horse took a stop. La Flaga followed.

"You _are _persistent," the lady grumbled under her breath.

"One of my best qualities," La Flaga responded, flashing her one of his most charming smiles—many of which have swept noblewomen off their feet. "Perhaps my persistence will be rewarded with your name?"

"If I give you my name, will you stop following me?"

"I am a man of my word, my Lady," La Flaga answered.

"Very well. Murrue Ramius."

o+

La Flaga's lips flaunted a Cheshire grin, his eyes glinting with mischief. He had told her he was a man of his word, but never had he answered her question. His feet skipped happily along the hallways, making his way to the stable. Like a full-blooded stalker, he had been watching the lady, and from his long hours at the stable, he had concluded that the lady was always at the open fields to bask in the morning dew.

o+

"Hatchoo!"

His lady "friend" stifled a giggle.

"I hate early mornings."

"It's all right, Shinn, I can see why."

"I", Shinn grunted as he held his nose with a soaking handkerchief, "don't need your jeers today, Luna."

"I have a fast-acting remedy you might want to try…"

Shinn paused for a minute, doubtful. "This isn't one of your tricks again, is it?"

Luna's raucous laughter made him even more cross. "Of course not! Is that how you thank me?" she laughed, making her way to her tent where she kept the balm she gave to cold-infected soldiers.

"Sometimes, Luna, I don't know why I put up with you," Shinn sighed, as he noticed a bulky figure of a man approach him.

"Ensign, report!"

Shinn instantly sped off to a sprint, directing his feet to the superior who called him.

After a brisk salute, the lieutenant gave him his orders.

"The governor is coming today. I want you to take your platoon and escort him to Heliopolis. He is currently three miles off the city gates. You have one hour."

"Yes Sir," Shinn replied.

The ensign waited for his dismissal. Instead, his superior sneered. "Not feeling well? Or are your rebellious antics reserved only for the Commander?"

Shinn stood unfazed by the deliberate taunt, his thoughts inwardly cursing this joker of a military man.

_I can't believe he's my direct superior_.

"Lt. Elsman?"

"Yes, Ensign?"

"Am I dismissed?"

To Shinn's dismay, Dearka fell to his knees, laughing his head off. Shinn just can't take this anymore.

_If this were someone else, I'd get reprimanded out of misbehavior. But I bet he won't even report me to the marshal. _

With that, the ensign sped off to assemble his men, leaving Dearka sitting on the ground, still in a comic fit. A few minutes later, Luna came back with her tailor-made balm.

"Lt. Elsman! May I ask, what are you doing down there?"

"Oh? Nothing Dr. Hawke, I'm just having fun with your little friend. Shinn, isn't it? Intriguing young lad, I tell you. He cracks me up!"

From a distance, Lt. Joule and Lt. Westenfluss have been watching the little scene that had transpired.

"Hopeless man, isn't he?" Heine commented.

"Like anyone cares," Yzak snorted, his head turning to the Commander's tent. "What is the Commander thinking?"

"We're leaving tomorrow. As soon as the governor gets settled."

"But most of the men who were injured haven't even recovered yet. Lunius is only two days away. He's being unreasonable."

"The Commander is rarely, if ever, unreasonable."

"And this is one of the few times that he is," Yzak spat, his hand holding a mug of coffee as he leaned on a wooden post.

"On the contrary. The message must have reached Lunius by now. The Commander simply wants to make sure they don't have that much time to prepare."

"Prepare? What about us? Don't _we_ need time to prepare?"

"You heard what the Commander said," Heine said calmly. "We won't even need to send the injured. They can stay in base camp."

"How is he so sure of himself? Does he have a spy in Lunius? What about the other city-states?"

"It seems like the king had been planning this Crusade for a long time. For now, let's trust them. After all, we have won many battles by Athrun's leadership."

Yzak fell silent. It was true. He hated Athrun Zala whom all his life he had considered a rival. Him as the prince and he as the son of a wealthy nobleman in the king's court. Lt. Joule hated to admit it, but he joined the army in hopes of continuing his rivalry with the Zaft prince. His fanatic passion to beat the prince had been seen by many of his colleagues—more evidently by Dearka and Heine—as a queer sense of loyalty.

"You don't have to remind me," Yzak sighed. "But why is he in such a hurry? The whole southern conquest will only—if his plan goes well—take us two weeks."

"Maybe he just wants to go home soon? He doesn't leave Zaft too often. Maybe he's just homesick."

The voice came up from behind—Dearka's.

"Not again, Elsman."

"Come on Yzak, why go on a last-name basis? It's only the three of us now."

"Your informality is appalling. And that was _not_ a compliment."

"Oh Yzak, your words of wisdom, no matter how short, are truly blessings from heaven. Please speak more, oh wise one."

"Stop mocking me!"

"Now the both of you, calm down. Whatever will the soldiers say when they find you bickering like this?"

"I am not bickering with him! I'm just initiating a proper conversation," Yzak hollered.

"A proper conversation does not involve a screaming Yzak, my friend," Dearka teased. "Have you forgotten your manners?"

"Watch your words, Dearka! I've had it with you!"

"God bless you children. Especially these two," Heine supplicated.

"Shut up!"

Behind the flaps of his tent, Athrun struck his hand to his face, covering it. He had heard the entire conversation. Shinn passed by the Commander's tent, still upset with Dearka's teasing laughter. His frustrated expression changed to starstruck when he heard stifled giggles coming from the closed makeshift chamber.

"What is _he _laughing about?" Shinn grudged under his breath, muttering something about insulting superiors and being led into war by a mentally disturbed Commander.

o+

"We are talking to him this instant!"

"Now Yzak, calm down," Heine tried.

"Calm down? Calm down? I've been calm long enough! Dearka has gone too far. He must be reprimanded for his misbehavior!"

"I beg your pardon Lieutenant, but isn't that the marshal's job?" Dearka interjected mockingly.

"Yes, to whom you have not yet paid an overdue visit," Heine reminded.

"I don't care, I'm talking to Athrun!" Yzak bolted into the Commander's tent.

"Yes, Lt. Joule, something wrong?" Athrun welcomed them, facing away from his men as he scribbled on a map.

"Something wrong? You can bet your trousers something is wrong!"

This made Athrun turn around to face them, his face still in its stoic countenance. "Be precise, Lieutenant."

"Forgive us, Commander, for our intrusion. You seem to be busy," Heine started, thinking they should leave. "Lt. Joule and Lt. Elsman are just having a little cat fight."

"Cat fight? You call this a cat fight?" Yzak bellowed.

Not heeding his words, Heine pulled Yzak out of the tent, but the attempt was useless. Yzak erupted into a fiery mound of rage as soon as he saw Dearka rolling on the floor.

"Stop… Yzak… you're… killing me…." Dearka stuttered, sitting up. "I… I… can't take it anymore… In front of the Commander, too!"

"You! How dare you insult me!" Yzak threatened, drawing his sword. Athrun gestured him to stop. To this, Yzak instantly recoiled, gritting his teeth.

"I won't have bloodshed under my own tent," he spoke calmly. "Does this still require my further interference or would you like the marshal to take care of this?"

"Hey, he started it!" Dearka defended.

"Shut up!" Yzak barked. "You oversized bulk of brainless muscle."

_Yzak, muscles don't have brains, _Athrun thought, watching the two in amusement.

"Such admirable words to describe me, my white-washed stick of an old friend."

_Goodness, Dearka, now you did it._

"Who are you calling old? I'm not old!"

"Oh, I'm sorry, was I talking to you?"

"That's it, you baboon, I've had it!"

"How many times have you said that?"

"Do you think I even bother counting?"

"Stuck up."

"What did you say?"

"Loosen up. If you keep that act up, you'll never find a girl."

"I don't need one. Huh, wait? How dare you change the subject!"

"Because I'm a daring debonair, that's why!"

"You despicable excuse for a human being!"

"Now that's a compliment!"

In his fury, Yzak grabbed Dearka's collar, pushing him to the tent's supporting post. "You little… what are you looking at?"

Consequently, all three men forgot to close the flaps of the tent when they came in. At the foot of the opening stood a stuttering captain and a dumbstruck girl.

"Uhm… sirs, I've been informed," Nicol struggled with his report. "That the governor has arrived and I believe the Commander…"

He couldn't hold it anymore. The sound of choked laughter blew to incessant giggles and hearty laughs as he fell off his seat. All of those with him could have sworn they needed to get their eyes checked.

"Commander, uhm, should I tell you to calm down?"

"No, I… I mean, yes, I mean, whatever!" Athrun said between chuckles, rolling on the ground. "Yzak, you're too much. I can't believe how well you can make a fool of yourself!"

"Oh no, not you…" Heine blurted, smacking his head.

"You… Athrun, that's it. How dare you make fun of me!" Yzak blew up.

"It's not me, I swear… it's you," Athrun attempted to stop his outburst, but it only got worse. "I haven't had a good laugh in a while. Thanks, Yzak!"

"Oh, by the heavens, what is the world coming to?" Yzak beseeched the sky, hitting Dearka on the chin with his prostrated arms. "Did everyone just wake up on the wrong side of the bed?"

"That hurt!"

"When will you shut up?"

Their continuous skirmish made it harder for Athrun to control himself. He couldn't stop laughing, let alone pay attention to the two figures standing at the entrance. Heine noticed them, and decided it was best if he just sent them away himself. "Permission to override your command, Sir."

"Granted… granted…." Athrun broke, still struggling.

"You are dismissed, Nicol," Heine told the soldier. He bowed, still lost in utter disbelief. He left Cagalli, whose eyes haven't left the scene, clutching on the coat she had borrowed from the now paralyzed Commander.

"I'll just leave this here." She tried to make her voice not too loud, but loud enough for everyone in the tent to hear.

At the sound of her voice, Athrun's laughter died down instantly.

"Oh, and thank you for last night."

She casually turned around, shutting the flaps on the four men. Everyone was silenced.

"Last night?" Dearka's eyes glowed a vexing glint of naughtiness at the sight of Athrun's slightly surprised face. "What does _that_ mean?"

Everyone was listening.

"I don't believe it. Athrun, did you really…" Yzak hissed.

"I know she's quite a beauty, but I would have never imagined that someone like you would…" Heine stood flabbergasted.

"Never knew you had it in you, buddy," Dearka snickered.

Silence again. Then Athrun stood up, dusting his shirt.

"Do not even _begin_ to think about it," he said chillingly with a stare that would have sent lions cowering.

o+

"This is it, Sir. Heliopolis."

"The golden city, yes. Thank you for your escorting, young man."

"All in the line of duty, Sir."

Shinn surveyed Arthur Trine, the governor assigned by the king to deal with Heliopolian affairs. This man was not half as commanding as Athrun or his father, but he was capable, incredibly well learned, and an excellent statesman. Fitting for a peace-loving city.

_So what? It isn't like he has to engage in battle._

"Sir, allow me to warn you. This place is littered with…"

But before Shinn could warn him, he found the governor writhing in pain.

"Scorpions!"

o+

"Get him to the medical quarters immediately!" Shinn ordered his men.

"Sir, the poison's working fast! He'll never make it!"

_The poison will kill him in less than 10 minutes, _Shinn thought. _Where are you, Luna?_

Lying prostrate on the ground, the governor stared blankly up the sky, feeling his body numb with venom.

"I'm dying, help me…" he choked, the sounds of his voice hoarse and fleeting. "Help!"

"Sir," a soldier panted, out of breath. "Dr. Hawke is out in the city. It'd take a while to find her."

"Damn," Shinn muttered. "Someone else? Her sister?"

"I saw her talking to someone nearby."

"Then what are you waiting for?" Shinn barked. "Get him to the medical quarters!"

"But he won't…"

"He has to! We don't have a choice, so go!"

Trudging a shortcut to Luna's tent, Shinn dragged the governor by one arm and urged him to keep walking. He knew running would only make the poison run faster through his veins. When they were halfway through, he felt the man's breathing become dangerously shallow.

"Hold on, mister," Shinn whispered.

But the man collapsed on solid ground, face first on the floor. His hand was purple, paralyzed by the sting. Out of nowhere, a girl rushed to the governor's aid, shoving the soldiers away as she reached for the man's pulse.

"Good, still alive. Breathing?" she asked one of the soldiers.

"We think so."

The girl flipped the man on his back, listening to his heart. It was faint, but beating nonetheless. The man fainted out of shock.

"I want you to get me a bucket of water, rags, and some ice. Meyrin, go back to the tent and find your sister's first aid kit. I'm sure she has the antidote for scorpion bites."

Meyrin nodded, amazed at how composed her friend was. The soldiers just stood there.

"What are you waiting for? This man is about to die!"

One of the soldiers looked to their superior, asking if they were to follow the girl's orders. Shinn nodded, who, along with his subordinates, was wondering who the strange girl was.

o+

There were two men who had split ways to find Luna in Heliopolis. The other who was still looking for her finally found the doctor tinkering over some of the library's medical archives.

"Snake bites, honey aphrodisiacs, common colds," she scanned through the pages. "Ah here it is! Disablers! Now let me just jot this down…"

"Doctor!"

"Sh! Don't you see, this is a library!"

"Doctor," the soldier replied hastily. "Someone's been bitten by a scorpion."

"What?" Luna gasped, gathering her notes. "Who's treating him?"

"I don't know, I was told to send for you when they were bringing him to the medical quarters thirty minutes ago."

"Thirty?"

Before the soldier knew it, Luna was out the door.

"Thirty minutes? By now the poor man must be…"

Her full sprint halted at the foot of the medical quarters, her eyes downcast, knowing what she'll find.

_A dead body. Again…_

Being head doctor had always been her dream. Since youth, Luna had developed a fondness for the medical profession. As a sickly child in her childhood days, she thought being a doctor would repay all the good doctors whom had helped her recover. She loved her job as medical assistant in the public hospital, but when the offer of being the army's head doctor came, she couldn't help but jump at the opportunity. Out of sisterly love, Meyrin pleaded to tag along as part of the medical team.

Women were rarely allowed to join the military, and when they were, they would be assigned to either the medical team or the chef's quarters. All they could do was remain in base camp and wait for the men to arrive; then they could put their skills to good use. Women were not exactly given high regard in Zaft's military—or any other military organization elsewhere.

Luna couldn't care less about joining battle. What she wanted was to serve her country through her medical expertise. She took pride in being head doctor—and one of the few lady head doctors in Zaft history—even if the job was often too gruesome to bear.

_They've been dying in my hands_, Luna thought, at the verge of tears._ And this one under my supervision. And I wasn't even there to see him…_

She opened the flaps and raised her head. Shinn met her at the opening.

"You have a lot of explaining to do."

"Excuse me?" Luna raised a brow. Moving her head to see behind the ensign, she found Cagalli sitting upright on a small stool, holding the governor's hand, as if to check his pulse.

"Cagalli… how did you…" She was more than surprised to say the least.

"I tied his arm to restrict the blood flow, making sure that the poison would stop in its tracks," she explained. "Then I gave him a cold sponge bath to cool his fever. Here," she showed a blue vial to the still at-awe doctor. "This is the antivenin for scorpion bites, right? It's quite a speedy remedy, I know you made it yourself. If not for this, the governor would have definitely been a goner."

Luna's lips formed a soft smile, quite different from the snickers she gave Shinn. "Good job, Cagalli."

A simple nod was Cagalli's response. In her thoughts, Luna was amazed at how fast and sure Cagalli acted.

_Another life saved under my supervision, and this time, under Cagalli's care._

From a distance, a throbbing of steps came bustling into the tent.

"Governor? Are you alright?" Dearka was the first to arrive.

Governor Trine, now awake, shifted his gaze to the young lieutenant. "I'm quite fine, Lt. Elsman, thanks to this lady here…"

Dearka was stunned to see the blond girl from earlier. "Oh, I see. Well then, allow me to thank you first hand for your help."

"It is my honor," Cagalli responded. _He's a lieutenant? Is that why he was so close to the Commander?_

"The Commander is coming to see you," Dearka continued, facing the governor. "Speak of the devil, here he comes now."

Athrun's head peeled through the tent, along with the rest of the lieutenants. "I'm informed you've been stung by a scorpion."

"Oh, it's not much, really. But I have your good doctor and her assistants to thank."

"I see," Athrun spoke, eyes fixed on Cagalli, whom he was not expecting to see. A few feet from Cagalli, someone was turning beet red. No one seemed to notice.

"I do hope Zaft's young women would be more like them. It would truly be a blessing."

_How fulsomely formal,_ Shinn thought, seeing the governor in a daydream-like reverie.

"My Prince, I believe we have many to discuss. The king told me you are to leave by tomorrow. No, Doctor," the governor gestured as Luna reminded him that he still needed to rest. "Business must be started now. I hope you are not too busy, your Highness."

Athrun shook his head and motioned everyone to empty the tent. Cagalli trailed behind Luna, taking a brief glance at the corner of her eye. The Commander never seemed to notice, focusing his mind on the task at hand.

Meanwhile—and Athrun truly never notices—someone was rubbing her cheeks, still beet red.

"Governor, please do not forget, you are in a military installation. Here, I am addressed as Commander, not as Prince."

"Yes, your Hi…" Arthur held his words as he remembered the Commander's request. "Yes, Commander."

Oooooo

I'm happy people liked the last chap, guess that sweet moment was a good shot, ne? Anyway, I hope this chap doesn't feel so out of place, and may my attempt on comedy be effective. Please review and tell me what you think… thanks!


	9. For a Better World

Hello, world. I have done you injustice for not updating in over three weeks, and I'm so sorry for that :-). Anyway, here's the new chap I've just finished, and just for the record, in this fic, there are no time references to our world, so you'll find modern-sounding, out of place things every once in a while. Just had to tell you that. Enjoy!

Warning: philosophical ideas are rampant in this one. I wouldn't say it's a boring chap though.

Disclaimer: The author of this fic does not own gundam seed/destiny, or its characters, because if I claimed I did, would delete my story—wouldn't it?—and the copyright people will sue me. Any similarities from other fics are purely coincidental, and so are any allusions to real events, places and people.

oooooo

Chapter 9: For a Better World

Strike raced across the eastern prairies, brushing his feet through the uncut grass that pricked his hooves. Its rider, having no intentions of letting his horse slow down, wore a distressed look on his face.

_Cagalli_, he reminded himself. His heart pounding, he kicked his horse to run faster. A typical trip to the golden city took five days at full speed, but if one took the shortcut that passed through Eternal Peak's forest-laden valleys, he would reach Heliopolis in three days.

Kira hunched his back, his eyes narrowing. He had to get to Cagalli as soon as possible, no matter what.

o+

The last few days have been relatively peaceful for the Zaft army. The onslaught for Lunius had been postponed for two days since the governor's arrival. Heliopolians seemed to have a number of ceremonies, including a seven-night litany for the dead. Athrun decided it was best to wait until the governor was set to rule the city, taking the time to allow his men to rest and the new Heliopolian army, a small array of around a thousand men, to get used to their new assignation. Primarily composed of Zaft soldiers, some regretted no longer being part of the crusade, but all willingly abided.

The Heliopolian air had lost the scent of blood it had over a week ago. Tonight was their last night on Heliopolis, and the last night for the city's litany. In the shadows, Athrun watched the people lay flowers in front of Minerva's statue, along with some of the deceased's personal belongings.

The Heliopolian tribute was not as colorful as the lives their deceased had led. Minerva's statue was cloaked in white, the color for mourning. People lined in orderly fashion as they brought their offerings. All of them were dressed in white. Golden braids lined the roads that led to the statue, rooting from the southern gates where the dead was laid to rest.

_Lifelines to heaven_, Athrun thought. He looked at the people. They were more composed than they were on the first day of mourning. All of them, to say the least, were in hysterics then.

Tonight, they seemed to have accepted their misfortunes. Most of the women and children were still in tears, but this was better than their lamentations a week ago. Never had the young prince gathered the nerve to join the people's tribute, until now.

A small bouquet of white wild flowers lay in his hands. The desert abounded with them. It was Athrun's turn to put the flowers down to join the sea of petals performing a funeral dance for all souls' eternal peace. He had always done something similar to this; other than the usual military rites he and his men did to honor both their fallen comrades and enemies, he would have a personal ceremony to pay his respects to the dead.

This time, he took the chance to honor the dead with their people. He _had_ fought many wars, but most of them were to defend Zaft against foreign and domestic threat. This was the first time in a long time that Zaft had set out on a mission to conquer, the first time Athrun was to lead an army on the offensive, the first time he was to lead a crusade. He was continuing the legacy of his ancestry, the long line of Zalas who, by passing on the throne to posterity, were able to immortalize themselves as the great founders of the world's most powerful race.

Without his armor, Athrun didn't look like much of a fighter. He wore loose shirts and trousers, more of a peasant's than a prince's. He did not mind the coarse fabric—the scars he had sustained through the years were far more painful. His height was enough to turn heads, but the loose garment made him look lanky, concealing the well-formed, war-molded body beneath.

_I've met many widows and orphans before, but to be in the presence of this many_, Athrun squirmed mentally. He stood anonymous in the crowd but just being in the presence of a whole flock of devastated loved ones bore holes on his back, as if hundreds of eyes were pressing on him in one penetrating glare. Sometimes, it surprises him how he can go on.

o+

"Your Highness."

"Yes, Athrun?"

"This would be foolish to ask of you, but after the sieges of the seven city states, what do we do with the people?"

His father gave him the same questioning look he always gave him when the prince asked something out of the ordinary. "Haven't we discussed this before? They will be untouched."

"After the siege."

"Are you referring to the way they will be governed?" His father's lips furled as if to think.

"Yes."

"Then they will be governed as all other provinces are. A governor will be sent, and he will deal with local affairs."

"What about tribute?"

He fingered the silver chalice beside him, one brow raised passively.

"Are you thinking about the gold, Athrun?"

The silence was deafening, the courtroom echoing with its stinging issuance.

"This isn't for gold, Athrun. This is for something else."

The prince's eyes tried to avert from his father's—straight down. _Exactly what is that, Father?_

"You should have known already by now."

_But you've never told me._

Athrun lifted his head. Patrick Zala was staring into the deep pool of darkness where his city lay underneath. One could barely see anything, but for the king, he could see everything: every single detail, every sleeping soul, every gust of wind in his beloved land…

"It's for a better world."

The night has been quiet, forgiving to the common man who toiled over his day's pay. For the royal father and son, it was the wall that separated their thoughts.

Athrun never did understand his father completely.

"What?"

And this was one of the few times that his father took the time to explain things to him.

"Very intelligent words coming from you, Commander," the king responded as he stared blankly into the darkness. "A better world. What's so vague about that?"

_You want to know? Everything. You're giving me riddles, not answers. _

He was a puzzle to his son—a conniving mastermind whose motives have always been unclear.

"A world where all races are united under one banner, one nation, one race. No discrimination, no subversion, no conflict. Where all of mankind are brothers and sisters of the same soil…"

For the first time, his voice was adrift, as if dreaming.

"Where all men live under one law, no injustice, no prejudice. Where the whole world is ruled as one country, by one ruler.

"Unity, Athrun. That's what makes a better world. To unite all nations under one empire."

The power of his words, no matter how short they were, is undeniable. This was part of the enigma that was his father, and like many of his qualities, this was something Athrun never quite understood.

"At this point, our battles are no longer solely for Zaft. The moment you set out for this Crusade, you give yourself to the world."

o+

_I wonder if Father had ever considered_, the prince thought, as he joined the flock of Heliopolians._ The possibility that his plans may not sit well with the people he governed. After all, it is by our hand that their sons and brothers will be murdered. What makes him think that these people will accept us with open arms? _

His flowers lay indistinguishable in the sea of white, as Athrun kicked his heels to leave. His brisk, precise footing was trademark of a soldier; anyone who has been around the military long enough would have noticed. Right behind him, another young man, around the prince's age, knelt to lay flowers for the dead as well. With somewhat the same—though less noticeable—briskness in his steps, he set out taking the same way Athrun had taken.

o+

Under the pallid night sky, Athrun sat on one of the fountain ledges along the now deserted royal palace. The governor chose to live in the ministers' abode nearby. _Perhaps he had heard of how the king had died_, Athrun thought.

_Scared of ghosts, I suppose_.

Rubbing his temples, his eyes fell on a young girl prancing around the sapphire-gilded fountains. She wore white, which meant she was from the city. A middle-aged woman was following her, eyes still puffy with tears. Athrun thought it strange for the girl to be happy, but when she twirled to face him, he saw dry streaks on her face.

"When will Brother be home, Mother?" the girl asked.

"Not anytime soon, Soledad. He'll be gone for a while," the woman answered shakily.

"But when will he be back?"

"Someday, my daughter, you'll see him."

"Mother, there's no use lying to Soledad now."

A young boy, probably twelve, came out from the shadows, his eyes blazing with anger.

"Francesco, please, not in front of your sister…"

Rage drowned his mother's pleads. "Mother, what is the matter with you? Brother is dead, dead, dead!" the boy broke, collapsing to tears.

The woman turned her eyes away from her mortified son, hurt by the pain her children were made to endure. There was nothing she could do. She herself was overwhelmed with despair, her own flesh and blood taken from her violently by war. She had nothing left to give her children, no strength to help them move on, no hope to share in their worst of times.

Accidentally, she caught sight of Athrun.

"Oh, I'm sorry, Sir. We didn't mean to trouble you with our affairs," she excused. "Francesco, let's go. Come on, Soledad."

The girl remained silent, shocked by her brother's words. She wouldn't move, so the woman picked her up and carried the child in her arms. The boy would not follow.

"Francesco! Don't be stubborn, come!" she scolded the boy. The boy still wouldn't follow.

"Francesco!"

"Excuse me, but may I speak with your son?"

The voice startled all of them. It was Athrun, his lips carved into an easy, gentle smile.

"Come here, kid."

"What do you want?"

"I want to talk to you."

"Why would you? And why should I listen?"

"How will you know if you don't let me talk to you?"

"You already are!"

"I don't want to keep shouting at you, so I'm asking you to come closer."

"Francesco, do as the man is telling you," the woman offered, sensing the man meant no harm. Her son reluctantly followed.

"All right, mister. What do you want?"

"Good. What's your brother's name?"

"Will it make a difference if you found out?" the boy asked mockingly.

"It might. Does it hurt to try?" Athrun answered, still maintaining an austere air, but not at all demanding.

"Severino Cortez. Commanding general of the first infantry battalion."

"Do you know how he had died?"

"Slashed in the neck," the boy recanted bitterly. "But it wasn't enough to kill him. He died out of blood loss."

_One of the youngest generals_, Athrun thought, remembering the account of casualties.

"The breadwinner?" he continued.

"Yes. His salary our only source of income."

"I see. Francesco, isn't it?"

The boy drew a piercing glare. _So much fire_, Athrun thought. _But it's too weak. Emotion's getting the better of him. _He looked at the boy's battered hands. _Calluses and scratch marks?_

"You've been training?"

"How do you…"

"Your hands tell me you've been learning to use a sword."

The boy stood, stupefied.

"See? My hands are like that, too," the prince said as he showed the boy his own rough, callused hands.

They shared a short moment of silence. After a while, the boy raised his head, thinking he'd see the man's soft, sympathetic smile. Instead, a pair of stern, probing eyes locked into his.

"If you do not wish your sister to be orphaned of another brother, do not even think of joining the army."

The words stung like ice.

"Are you saying I'm a wimp?"

"Not quite," Athrun answered. "Do you even realize that you'll be sent to war and will be forced to kill men?"

"I'd kill my brother's murderer right in front of you."

"That's different. Soldiers don't live by emotions."

"What's that nonsense?"

"Soldiers follow orders," Athrun explained, never breaking his gaze over the boy. "The superior tells him to attack someone, he follows. Once you're in the army, there's nothing you can do about it."

"I don't care. If it makes me strong enough to beat the man who killed my brother."

"Vengeance is never a good cause."

"Says who?"

"Says me." Athrun placed his hand in one pocket, pulling out a golden ring. "And your brother would probably say something along those lines, if he were alive. Here, take this."

The boy reached for the golden piece of jewelry in Athrun's palm.

"It might help you get a fresh start."

"Mister, this is worth a lot."

"It's all right, keep it."

With that, Athrun stood up, starting back to base camp. Then he felt something hard land on his back. He turned to find the ring rolling on the ground.

"What do you take us for, beggars? We don't need help from you!" the boy screamed, sending his mother to calm him.

Athrun moved his vision from the boy to the ring. Picking it up, he thought, _If I were the kid, I would have said something like that._

"You're one of them, aren't you? You're from Zaft! It was you. You killed him!"

The prince took no heed as he walked closer to the boy. "Maybe."

"You… you…" the boy stuttered, aiming a punch at Athrun's gut. He made contact, causing Athrun to bend a little, but not enough to make him step back.

He eyed Athrun menacingly. The man still had that easy smile on his face—that revolting sign of uncalled-for sympathy offered by this worthless, hypocritical…

"Bastard? Monster? Murderer?"

After delivering his strongest punch, the boy lost the strength to speak.

"Have I missed out on anything?"

"Don't mock me!" the boy blew, furnishing another blow. To this, Athrun's hand came in the way.

"If you're going to fight for revenge, then don't bother fighting at all. You must find a better cause to give your life to. Something you can die for."

He took the boy's hand and shoved the ring to it.

"I've met a lot of people who lived for revenge and died regretting it," he said, letting go of the boy's hands. "Don't be one of them."

His eyes that once held a homicidal glow seemed tamed by Athrun's words.

"Is this your way of being charitable, mister?"

"It's not charity. And I'm not giving you that ring anymore."

"What?"

"You said you didn't want it. So I'm asking you to give it to the governor tomorrow. He'll give you a job, probably as an errand boy for the ministry. I'm not giving you money on a silver platter, so I wouldn't call that charity."

After falling silent for a while, the boy finally gathered the guts to speak.

"What about you, mister? What are you fighting for?"

It was nagging him again, persistently, unwaveringly. His answer felt half-baked, but he decided it was the best he had, anyway.

"I guess I'm fighting for a better world," he reiterated, setting to walk off. "You pack quite a punch, kid."

Before the lad could thank him, Athrun had disappeared into the darkness.

o+

Lucid and serene was the Heliopolian night when Athrun decided to take a couple of detours across the city. He ended up sitting on one of the silver benches that lined the city sidewalks. The marble monuments were white again, clear of blood. Swaying with the desert wind, the sky gardens sheltered a cool breeze over the city.

_Beautiful,_ he thought. Heliopolis had shed off the effulgent exterior to reveal the tranquil sanctuary beneath—a peaceful oasis in the middle of the South's ruthless desert nights. The city's abounding gems seemed timid—no longer flaunting their blinding luster but complementing each other's brilliance.

"It's strange. The last time I came here, this city was like a proud god, waving its wealth and grandiosity at my face. All this time, I thought I'd find a ghost town, but I was wrong."

The speaker's voice was soothingly calm.

"I think it's more… peaceful now. Would you say it's been…"

"Tamed?" Athrun mumbled absent-mindedly, his newly arrived companion nodding his head in approval.

"Like a proud god subdued by the most powerful mortal." He stepped into the light, revealing the man who had been standing behind Athrun in the tribute.

Recognizing him, the prince asked, "Have we met?"

"Not quite. I saw you at the tribute, though."

"Is that so? How unusual it is for the both of us to be taking the same path."

"Coincidence?"

"On the contrary, I think you're following me."

"Do not jump to conclusions, Sir. This way leads to the city gates. I was about to leave for home myself. "

"Not from around here?"

"I'm a traveler, so I believe not."

"Then what were you doing in the…"

"Same as you, paying my respect. I was supposed to come for…" the young traveler paused before delivering his next words. "An educational visit to one of the schools. But on my way, I learned of the assault. I was supposed to go back but… I figured I needed to refurnish myself with supplies before I set off for another city, so I decided to drop by. When I saw the tribute, I thought it proper to pay respect, too. I trust you aren't from around here as well?"

Small birds began to alight on the clear waters spewing from the fountains.

"Your faculty of observation is quite an asset. How did you know?"

"Your clothes. All Heliopolians are wearing white tonight."

This made Athrun check his attire, a peasant's set of black clothes. _This traveler is quite amusing._

He spoke lightly, comfortably—so much so that even someone like Athrun felt amazingly at ease.

"They also tell me that you're from Zaft. Loose clothing is typical of the peasants there."

"You're quite well read. What else can you conclude about me?"

"You're a soldier."

To this Athrun gave a suspicious look. _Too well read_.

"But don't take it as anything serious. I heard your conversation with that kid."

His suspicion lifted.

"You're a noble man."

"Which means?"

"Not sarcasm," the young man said, offering an affable smile. "I meant what I said. You knew they needed a source of income; you gave them one. That was very noble of you."

"I can give them more than that," Athrun sighed, slouching on the bench he sat on. _I can give them all the gold they'll need for the rest of their lives._

"Perhaps, but it's not like the boy would take it from you," responded the traveler, taking the space beside the Zaft prince. "You know that, don't you?"

The prince nodded, unmindfully strumming his fingers on the bench's silver handrails. They were at least half a mile—the city was that huge—from the tribute, but the bonfires' light showering the city's diamond statue somehow diffused into the night sky. Gemstones around them seemed to glimmer softly in the subtle blend of black and crystal white as the nocturnal symphony of crickets and squirrels played up on the sky gardens. Tonight, Heliopolis had a different luster.

Indeed, it did seem more peaceful. It was this crusade's most powerful justification, the one reason it was born in the first place.

Perhaps somehow, it had become a better world. And this was something Athrun was about to grasp. Barely, at least.

"You think we did the right thing?" he asked.

Surprised by the sudden inquiry, the traveler sat up. "About the kid? Of course you did. He would have been lost in the clutches of vengeance, living a pointless life of anger and deceit. You saved him from wasting his life."

"Not the kid. The war."

"What?"

"We were ordered to attack 5, 500 men of Heliopolis with a force of 20, 000. They've done nothing to Zaft. More than 5,000 were killed, some of which our own. Does anything justify that?"

The traveler paused to think. At this point, he thought far more years than his age.

"Did you at least try to be diplomatic?"

"We sent an ultimatum, but they didn't submit."

"You should have waited. I'm sure the king would have arranged for some sort of…"

"He was crazy. Driven mad, probably by the sight of war at their doorstep. There was no way he could have surrendered," the prince explained, remembering Azrael's tragic demise. Turned to the heavens, his eyes overflowed with guilt.

_He's asking for guidance, _the traveler thought._ As if it is by his hand that all this has happened. Poor man, the burden must be overwhelming. Maybe I can help him. _

"What do you think?"

Athrun threw his arms in the air, letting his frustrations show. "I… I…"

"You?"

"Look, I… I don't know, all right? That's why I'm asking you."

"Why did you attack the city then? If it has done nothing worth killing 5, 000 men for?"

"We were following orders?" The answer was full of doubt, the tone more like…

"Sounds more like a question that an answer. Why did you launch this crusade? The truth."

_The truth, _Athrun thought. _Now isn't that familiar? Do I ever know the truth?_

He tried to rub the thoughts away, focusing on his companion. "You know a lot for a traveler."

"It's no longer unknown in the South. I've heard many rumors along the way."

_I knew it,_ Athrun grunted. This was why he didn't want to stop too long over Heliopolis; it was too risky. By now, all of the South must be gathering their arms, preparing for them. No matter how seemingly superior they were, it was always good to keep a hold on the upper hand. More importantly, he didn't want to lose more of his men.

_Their blood is spilled on my account, by my command. Does anything… _

"Are you asking me for a justification?"

His head upturned, he lazily stared at the blank night sky as Athrun did.

"But I can't give you one until you answer my question."

It was strange how Athrun seemed transparent to so many people lately.

"You keep on saying you don't know, and I believe you. The catch is, you can't afford not to know. It bothers you a lot, doesn't it? You take people's lives, and your conscience damns you for it. But somehow, you know you shouldn't stop. The question is, why?"

Athrun seems to be meeting a lot of psychics lately, too.

"That's what you want to know, right? You want to know if you're doing the right thing. Right?"

He had been holding his breath all this time. This man seemed to see what he often tried to hide beneath his armor—the incapacity to decide for himself.

It was like standing in front of a supreme juror. Somehow, Athrun felt there was no need to fear the verdict.

"Well then, perhaps you would like to entrust this task to me. I'm a judge back home, you see. So let me play judge, present your case. Then I'll evaluate if you're actions are rational, based on what you tell me. What say you then?"

Unmindfully curling his lips to a small smile, Athrun presented his defense—the one his father presented him, the one he couldn't understand.

The only one he had.

"For a better world."

"What do you mean?"

"A crusade to unite all four corners of the world. Creating an empire to rule the world under one banner—Zaft. A single government where one man will rule."

"Who?"

_My father, _he thought._ My overly ambitious father_. "Zaft's king."

"You think he's capable?"

Surprised by the traveler's frankness, Athrun's back jerked up from its recline.

"You do realize you just disrespected the king in front of one of his men, do you?"

"I trust you are rational enough to know my question is earnest, and that you are wise enough to keep whatever weapon you have sheathed."

Clutching the dagger behind his back, Athrun's composure tried to maintain its usual apathy, but it was obvious he was agitated. "Your trust will not be betrayed."

"So the answer is?"

"Yes. I know the king is quite capable."

_Very capable, _he thought. His father had proven to be a good king many times. As far as Athrun knew, the people were content, well fed, liberal and free. The king was just and honorable, anything a country could ask for a king. If only he weren't so…

"Perhaps your king is too ambitious?" the traveler anticipated Athrun's thoughts. "I mean, can one man handle so much?"

His words were not taunting. They held a different kind of austerity, weighing the options of conceding to the empire or putting up a fight.

"I envy you," Athrun blurted.

"Why is that?"

"For your open mind. I never could make up my mind, whether I really want to join the war or not. I do what everyone tells me to do. Fight."

"Is that supposed to be a bad thing? You're following orders. That's what soldiers do, right?"

"No, they can choose to resign from the army and retire to peace for the rest of their days," he scowled, putting his hands at the back of his neck. "As for me, I don't have anything else to do."

All his life his father had taught him what to do—how to act, how to fight, maybe even how to die. He had grown to hate his father since five years ago, but for the first sixteen years of his life, he had admired him. Patrick Zala could do things once deemed impossible, defeat what seemed invincible. He had protected Zaft in his over twenty-year reign, and he has done it well.

_The Leviathan, _Athrun thought. A god among men. The god of war who will shelter the world under his wings. With one great man commanding over the earth, there will be no need for war. Every soldier would pay allegiance to only one king, every man to only one master. There would be no more fighting, no more massacres, no more crusades…

The crusade to end all crusades. As far as Athrun knew, there was only one man fitting to rule the empire that followed.

"That's right. I'm not just fighting for Zaft. I'm fighting for a better world. No wars, no pain, no suffering. Where everyone is considered one people. It's a kind of peace—an eternal peace."

"Heaven on earth, am I right?"

"Yes," Athrun whispered. Earlier, the chilling night air blew in gusts, ruffling the strands of hair covering their heads. At that moment, the wind had died down, as if to mimic Athrun's now less turbulent thoughts.

"Then if that's what you're after, your motives need not be put into question. But what about the lives that have to be sacrificed in the process?"

The prince was held in his tracks. He remembered the horror of the siege—how he beheaded the soldiers, how he sliced the king in half together with his son…

_Cagalli…_

"Casualty," he breathed in, thinking of the right words to say, "is inevitable in any endeavor."

"Casualty sometimes outweighs the benefits of war," the traveler explained, taking out a sticky brown square of what seemed to be steamed rice from his knapsack. He bit into it, saying, "Are you sure it's worth it?"

_My father may be a bastard, but he's one able bastard. I hate him, but I know he has the power to change the world for something better. I know it. I'd bet my life on it. _

"For a better world, yes."

"Then I have nothing more to say," the traveler continued munching on his food. "This is a strange city, isn't it? A week ago, I could have sworn it hated Zaft, but look at it now."

"The people seemed to have accepted their fate," Athrun chuckled dryly. "They don't really have much of a choice, if you'd ask me."

"On the contrary," the traveler took one last bit on the sweetmeat, before searching his knapsack for more. "I think they're quite happy."

"What?"

"Not that they're happy for the deaths of their fellowmen. They're happy with the new sovereign."

"The governor?"

"He's one. I think the thought of being protected by the 'great' Zaft country thrills them."

"Really?"

With an affirmative nod, the stranger continued. "Especially the street philosophers. I was talking to some of them earlier. They said the assault was a blessing in disguise. A chance to rid themselves of a pompous, foolish king," the best morsels of food going down his throat. "'Heliopolis can now be great again' they say. Their king's death was no doubt tragic, but as they say, it was a small price to pay."

The surprised look on Athrun's face made the traveler smile. "When I first heard their view of the entire thing, I wore the same look you wear now. Couldn't believe my ears either. Street philosophers often had queer points of view on the value of human life and such things, but that is their prerogative. They were thinking of the greater good, and it seemed to be at the king's cost. It seems that the new governor had just implemented a few regulations by orders of Zaft's king, and apparently, a lot of people found them pleasing. I'm told they were scared to death at first…"

"By us most likely…"

"True, but when they found out Zaft meant to rule them not as slaves but as men, and that they were assured of happy, peaceful lives, I think the thought of being protected by the world's most powerful army gave them peace. Except for the orphaned and widowed of course."

"They'll be sent pension. All Heliopolians are Aprilians now."

"Well and good, but that doesn't mean they'll throw their hands and worship your king."

"Doesn't matter. They'll learn to accept. Besides, dissent is inevitable. It happens."

"Yes, but for this city? Dissent is negligible."

"What do you mean?"

"Those who are of noble descent, those whose allegiance is solely for the late king, they will rebel. But if everyone is content and is tired of war, who will join them? Take care of the people and they will take care of you. Isn't that a rule all royalty abides?"

"True."

"You can't expect everyone to accept their new sovereign all that readily. But with time, people forget. As for this city, a dutiful ruler will make them forget the horrors of war. They're smart enough to understand that."

His words were clear, unperturbed, and circumspect—words that seemed to pull Athrun out of the shadow of guilt, reminding him of the cause he was supposed to be fighting for. For a moment, the burden on his shoulders lifted.

"The demise of a city," the traveler started again. "Starts with its sovereign. The malady spreads to its protector—the military—and finally to the people. Eventually, the decadence of the Heliopolian government would have spoiled this city's gold, using it in futile triviality. The trade, arts, and education would follow. This city would fall prey to neighboring countries vying for its riches, of which there is no guarantee that they will be ruled justly. If your king is as just as you say, and provided that Zaft's tradition will not be broken, I'd say Zaft saved Heliopolis."

_Save this city… please…_

The old general's words seemed to make more sense now. This was what his father meant for him to do; they were saving the world from destroying itself, from falling into deterioration in the hands of moronic kings. It was his duty to take now—his responsibility.

"I'm happy this city fell into good hands," the traveler mumbled lazily as he eyed the falling leaves from the suspended skygardens.

"Through blood."

"But to good hands nonetheless. Now let me deliver my verdict."

Smiling as lazily as his companion, Athrun hung his arms behind the bench, thinking, _this man has got to be the queerest character I've met in years_. "And that is?"

"Having judged your case from your statements alone, without prejudice or bias with any party…"

Standing up, the traveler made a proud, waving gesture with his hands, as if he were a noble concluding his speech. This made Athrun giggle, to the traveler's amusement.

"It seems that it is the right thing to do after all, this crusade."

A sigh of relief exuded from Athrun's throat. This night had turned out to be much better than he could have ever wished. "Thanks for the compliment."

"Your Commander should be pleased."

"My what?"

"Your Commander. Prince Athrun."

"Oh," the prince tried to look calm. "True, I'll tell him."

"Thanks you." Taking out the last piece of sweets in his knapsack, the traveler looked at it longingly.

"Would you like this one?" he said, offering it to Athrun. "It's the last piece."

"What is it?"

"Bico. It's a delicacy back home. These are the sweetest ones you can find anywhere. Go ahead, take it."

"What about you?"

"I'm headed home, so I'll be having more in three days."

"I see, thanks!" Reaching out for the sticky square of rice, Athrun bit into it, relishing its tantalizing sweetness.

"Pretty good?"

"Yes, I should ask someone to make it for me at home."

"Please do. I'll be off now, the night is no longer young."

"I see. Well, I shall see you someday then."

"But before we part ways, may I ask for your name?"

_Should I tell him who I am? _ This was one of the few times in his life that Athrun talked to anyone casually, not out of business or necessity, but out of goodwill. He didn't want the traveler to treat him differently from the rest. His mind scanned for names, peasant's names, not being sure which name sounded most fitting. He finally settled with one, not a peasant's though.

_Why would it matter? I'd let him know this much, _he thought. "Athrun."

The traveler's eyes wide in shock made Athrun grin. "I was named after the prince, who was then a year old." Referring to himself in third person made him grin even wider.

"Interesting."

"And yours?"

"You can call me," as if the traveler was scanning for names himself, he ended with a satisfactory smile, "Kira."

"All right. It was a pleasure meeting you, Kira," Athrun approached his newfound friend, extending his hand.

"My pleasure as well," Kira said, as he responded to Athrun's offer. "May the Divine bless your soul."

"And yours as well," Athrun finished, as they both disappeared into the darkness.

o+

Back at base camp, Athrun kicked his shoes and sank to his rug. Reviewing the events of the day, a small smile crept up his face.

_Kira,_ he thought. _It's been a while since I've made friends with anyone. _

The bico Kira gave him still remained half-eaten; Athrun wanted to savor the last bites in repose. While he gulped the last bites, a sudden realization hit him.

_Kira… Kira Yamato Athha of Orb?_

_Why hadn't I thought of this earlier? _he smacked himself in the head. _I haven't given him anything useful, have I?_

Their conversation flashed violently in his mind as he searched for military plans, strategies, anything important he might have unknowingly disclosed. But their conversation contained no such things, except for things of utmost importance—things more important than tactics or formations.

_We never talked about strategies or war plans; he didn't even ask what my position in the army was. All we talked about was principle—what I fought for, no, what I was supposed to be fighting for. I asked for answers; he gave them. It was like talking to an old friend. Orb's prince would never have been that open to a Zaft soldier._

"No…" he told himself as he dozed off.

"It can't be."

Had he known bico was a delicacy from Orb, and that Prince Kira was Orb's supreme juror, Athrun wouldn't have slept so peacefully.

oooooo

_Leviathan _is more famous as the political writing by Thomas Hobbes, but it was originally taken from the book of Job in the Bible. It has come to mean someone very, very great and powerful. Wow, this is a long chap, I guess I did make up for lost time. Anyway, thanks to all who reviewed last time, and I'm hoping to get reviews for this one too. See ya people:).


	10. Cagalli's Decision

Hello world. First up, my apologies for not updating for three months—I think. Been hectic, depressed, stressed, and constipated all at the same time. Plus, I've had trouble updating since my net's down and I have to rent a computer at some crowded net shop every time I need to use the net. Anyway, I'm not abandoning, and I'm sticking with this to the end. Hopefully, people still remember the plot and the little hints I sneaked in previous chaps, but just in case you don't you pretty much have everything you need to know from those chaps in this chap. If you get confused, I suggest going back to chap 3 and 6. So without further ado, here goes.

Disclaimer: The author of this fic does not own gundam seed/destiny, or its characters, because if I claimed I did, would delete my story—wouldn't it?—and the copyright people will sue me. Any similarities from other fics are purely coincidental, and so are any allusions to real events, places and people.

oooooo

Chapter 10: Cagalli's Decision

Morning. If there was something the rest of the world loved about late mornings in those months, they were warm. Dewdrops condensed by the cool early mornings fell from the vegetation they sat on, creating small puddles and water pockets interspersed among blades of grass. Soon, these droplets would dry up and the summer noon heat would take over. Late morning was a transition—not so cool, and not so hot either.

That was for the rest of the world. Logos had always been an exception; all year round, the snow country lived up to its name—bitter cold made its presence felt every day, every morning of the year. It didn't snow in the summer, but the cold wind blowing down from Eternal Peak and the North's numerous mountain ranges kept the air as cool as it was in early mornings around the world. It didn't matter if it was noon or midday. It was always the same.

The night was even more terrible.

Despite that, some birds still alighted on the few trees that dotted Logos' landscape. These and a lot of other creatures have learned to adapt by staying small in size and moving quickly—to conserve and produce more heat. For this reason, it was rare to find hawks in Logos.

Shoving off the smaller birds as it barged into territory foreign to its wings, a hawk alighted on a marble ledge in Logos' royal abode in Copernicus, where someone had been waiting patiently as he fumbled his set of building blocks scattered on his desk.

The man was around thirty—in the prime of his life. Dressed in armor, he would have made a finer Commander than Athrun, maybe because he was older. His hands had a unique steadiness in them; those precise hands made the architectural model of a city that stood on his desk. This man lifted the bird's relaxed wing, finding the message he had been waiting for. Unfolding it, he found it written in seemingly indecipherable letters. It was a code, the code this man taught to all his messengers—the spies he sent all over the known world. Translated, it said:

_By the time you receive this, I am sure that we had left Heliopolis for the city of Lunius. It will take us, as expected, two days to get there. The Commander had informed his lieutenants that all movements would go as promised by the king in Zaft, but the Commander pointed out a few changes. The Crusade will return to Zaft at Vierna's conquest. Apparently, the King has a spy in Orb who has informed him of Orb's preparations. The King seems to want to prepare for Orb and attack full force, but I think there is something either the Commander is keeping secret, or his father chose not to tell him. You will be informed of future developments soon. _

_The songstress had also informed me that she has in her custody that kid you sent for. As soon as she gets back from her mission in Lunius, she will bring him to you. _

Zaft's change of course was bad news for the man. His plans were all set, waiting for execution. Nevertheless, there would be little to change, anyway. He looked back at the crumpled sheet and noticed that his spy had not yet finished his message.

_In case you might be interested, Orb's princess had found her way into base camp, apparently captured during the siege. It seems that no one, other than myself, has figured out who she is; at least, no one has told the Commander. Zaft's head doctor is trying to convince her to stay with us. Her medical skills are impressive. Her decision to stay is not yet final. However, I am pretty sure…_

Smiling, he folded the paper and lighted a gasoline lamp, setting the paper on flames. The final words of the message were the last to burn.

_She will say yes. _

The man was now minister of Logos, entering the king's court half a year ago and receiving the king's full trust in three months. It was by his advice that Logos decided to refrain from launching attacks to Zaft, in effect, starting the Crusade. This seemed the perfect opportunity for Patrick Zala. Logos was severely impaired, perceptibly maimed beyond recovery. No one would attack Zaft while one third of the army was away. No other country had the manpower or the stratagems to match Zaft's.

_The Crusade had to be launched. It was the only way to reduce their army's number significantly._

But the Crusade was to reach a premature hiatus. Logos, in their last face-off, was heavily diminished. The minister would need more time to arrange for more men and supplies.

_I'll need more time to convince the Northern Mountain tribes, more time than what this Crusade, of the South will allow me._

There seemed only one logical choice. Wait for the Zaft army to launch for Orb, where the king will probably send at least half of the army, based on what the king's spy will tell his master. By then, Logos would have strengthened its forces unimaginably.

_And Patrick would never know what had hit him. _

The minister was someone of brilliance, a genius of political and military stratagems. No other man in Logos could match his quick thinking; perhaps, the only man who could match him in those skills was Zaft's king himself. Since his arrival in Logos, he had been able to improve a great deal of Logos' economy, utilizing all available resources, including the rich oil fields bounding Logos and the eastern shores of Pallas. Had King Djibril listened to him much earlier, perhaps they would not have lost that much in the last battle with Zaft. The point was, the minister was a national asset for Djibril, a man who the gods of fortune seemed to favor.

He was Duke Fortune.

Taking out a piece of paper from his drawers, Duke Fortune began scribbling a few things for his spy.

_Zaft's detour for home will do little to influence our original plans. Do as I have told you before—do everything your Commander tells you to do. I know the idea of obeying a younger colleague's orders sickens you, but bear with it. As for Orb's princess, keep a good eye on her. _

Duke Fortune had not always been Duke Fortune. At some point in his life, people once called him by the name his parents gave him. Back then, he had the privilege of being associated with the world's most powerful family. Back then, he had the chance to be with the woman he loved.

At some point in his thirty-seven years on earth, Patrick Zala was his closest friend.

Five years ago, he was part of Zaft—a minister, a soldier, and a loyal subject to the king. However, something happened that fateful night when the rain pounded on the white walls of the warrior city, an event that damned him in the eyes of his fellowmen. Condemned of a crime he believed was not one, his heart craved for one thing.

Vengeance.

_It is very important that you do. For all we know…_

Of all the gifts he had, Djibril prized him most for his uncanny ability to predict the future.

_She could be a spy. _

The North's bleak, gray heavens outlined the hawk's fleeting figure, sent to deliver the duke's message. Duke Fortune took to his seat again, staring at the model he had been building.

"Zaft. Patrick, I've got to give a hand to you, you have raised it well.

The duke's model was well constructed. It was an exact copy of Aprilius, just as he remembered it: the white walls circled by checkpoints at each of the seven city gates, the adobe sidewalks, the monumental government buildings, the bustling marketplace, the bourgeoisie chateaus, the homes of the small merchants and artisans…

The royal palace. Duke Fortune spent his entire childhood there. He knew it well—every corner, every post. He remembered playing hide and seek there with Patrick as a child, and Duke Fortune always won.

"I know this place better than you, Patrick. And in every palace, there is always a weak spot. The same applies to you. And I will make sure I hit you where it would hurt the most."

The royal palace was a vertical giant—seven stories of marble, brick and material. Duke Fortune took from his model one block, where one tower rested most of its weight. It was that highest tower Zaft's prince occupied; highest of the fourteen towers that circled the palace's vestibule. This tower was also the hardest to fall.

Like a set of dominoes, the blocks tumbled one by one, sliding on the table, then on the floor. They showed no mercy, running over all the other blocks, including the smaller ones that formed the citizens' homes.

"My Lord, Lady Djibril wishes to speak you."

The duke stood, his face masked in its usual formality, and exited the room with the queen's envoy. As he paced the hallways, he couldn't help but smirk, thinking about how the great country of the West would fall.

o+

It never snowed in the South, but the chilling night air was as frigid as it was in the northern snowcaps, the summer sun's absence exorcising the cool breeze from the sea. The wind cooled the entire southern plain to a soul-freezing state, a reminder that no man should ever underestimate the desert's power.

With these cold caresses patting his head, Kira tried to calm down Strike, who had been quite fidgety for the last hour. The prince had left Strike to a hired lackey so that he can search better for Cagalli, but obviously, the lackey was a senseless brute.

Now he stood in front of Lacus' bungalow, his breath caught in his throat.

_The civilians were untouched. That's what everyone's been telling me_, Kira told himself repeatedly, trying to calm down. _It's not like they barged into the homes and ransacked them. Why, then, do I feel so uneasy? _

With a shaky hand, Kira knocked on the door.

No answer. Cagalli wasn't in.

Realizing this, Kira took out a key, the one Lacus gave him. Her home was just as Lacus had described it. The pink curtains, the bookshelf of music sheets, the pink sofa, the baby grand piano, the pink frames of Lacus' baby pictures…

No Cagalli. Not even a trace of her.

_Strange, _Kira thought._ Cagalli never leaves things this neat._

He noticed a bundle of newspapers placed on the grand piano—the only trace of Cagalli he could find. Scanning the dates, the latest one was delivered the morning after the summer festival—the day of the siege. The absence of the latest issues meant one thing.

"Cagalli had not been home for a full week!"

Speeding out of the house, Kira galloped to the city plaza, in frantic search for his sister. He even forgot to shut the door.

o+

The streets were crowded, but Kira didn't care. He zoomed across the city, garnering many curses from people he almost ran over.

_Maybe she's staying at another friend's house, a friend other than Lacus. _

But Lacus had told Kira Cagalli made few friends in Heliopolis. She devoted most of her time to study, restricting meetings to casual acquaintances.

_Or maybe she decided that since Lacus wouldn't be around to help with chores, she would rent a studio for the meantime._

That sounded even more farfetched. Cagalli would never leave Lacus' home unattended for such a petty reason.

_Unless… she wasn't home during the siege. _

The prince furiously rubbed that possibility away. There was no way his precious little sister could possibly have been…

_Held captive? By Zaft?_

Panic surged in his chest. Lacus had told him that she left home early in the afternoon at someone's advice that Orb must be informed. She was not sure if Cagalli did make it home that night.

_I should have waited_, he remembered Lacus saying. _I shouldn't have given into panic. I'm sorry._

It was then that she burst into tears. Now that he felt he was giving into his own feelings, Kira knew he had to be strong. He refused to believe that something more than captivity may have happened. Cagalli's capture and detention seemed to be the most possible.

_The civilians were untouched, _Kira reminded himself. Cagalli knew how to fight, but she was no soldier.

_But she's not a civilian either._ The thought sent up lightning through his spine.

_They cannot find out Cagalli is Orb's princess. I have to get to her, before they find out!_

There was only one way he can settle this. By an ironic twist of luck, he had bumped into the solution earlier.

_I need to find Athrun. He must have some kind of idea if any civilians were captured in the Heliopolian siege._

o+

There had been very few times in his life that Kira felt overcome by panic, and most of them took place when he was young. He thought he had grown out of it, but he was wrong. When it came to Cagalli's safety, Kira's brotherly instincts often took over for his reason.

_Now's not the time to panic_, he told himself. He'd get more things done this way.

_I have to relax… relax… relax…_

_Breathe in… breathe out…_

He was never nerve-wrecked in anything else. He was calm in national assemblies, formal appearances, even in the face of war. But when it came to his sister, he was a completely different man.

_Curse this blasted crowd… where are you, Cagalli?_

No one could blame Kira for his agitation. Wherever Cagalli went, Kira had always been there—at proximal distance, at least. She just had to call for help, and Kira would be just in time to catch her before she slipped off a cliff, or to fend off the forest's beasts before they clawed on her. In their childhood, when King Uzumi thought it best not to surround Cagalli with too many bodyguards so she can somehow live a normal life, Kira was his sister's personal bodyguard. It was a task that Kira accepted all too happily, one that he took on as a life's mission.

Things changed when Kira hit his sixteenth year. Kira was made commanding officer of Orb's army, and a year later, Orb's supreme juror. He now had little time in his hands, too little to spend protecting his sister. It was then that Cagalli was surrounded with guards everywhere she went. She used to be able to shop in the marketplace with her brother, but for what her father called "ensuring her safety", she was restricted to the palace's premises for most of the day. Cagalli was precious, but a gem and its beauty hidden from human view, locked in a safe for God knows how long would lose its luster. Kira feared this, but he feared more for his sister's safety. Thus, the father-son consensus of locking up Cagalli in the palace for most of her days was born.

It was Kira who convinced King Uzumi to let Cagalli be housed in Heliopolis without a royal escort. Things seemed to have turned out for the worst.

_Cagalli…_

He had to find her no matter what.

_Cagalli…_

Even if it meant jumping into enemy territory.

_Cagalli…_

He would do it for the sake of Orb's princess, his sister.

_Cagalli…_

"Kira!"

The familiar voice made Kira stop in his tracks. Both of them out of breath, brother and sister found each other in the middle of the street with a dozen bystanders watching in awe, curiosity and annoyance, Kira's stallion almost running over the princess.

o+

Noticing the people's penetrating stares, Cagalli pulled Kira into a less traveled road, where she was met with a soft knock on the head.

"Ouch, what was that for?" she grunted, rubbing her head.

"That was for making me worry," Kira answered as-a-matter-of-factly. Soon, he could no longer hold his feelings. He closed the gap of cold air between them, capturing his sister in a bear hug.

"Wait, you're choking me," Cagalli squeaked, until her brother released her with a big grin. Then he began bombarding her with questions.

"Where have you been? What have you been doing? Where are you staying now? Have you been eating well? Why on earth are you NOT home?"

"Relax, Kira," Cagalli calmed him. "I've been well. They've all been nice, really, and yes, I've been clothed, lodged and fed well back in base camp…"

"Base camp?" Kira bellowed aghast. " You've _been_ to base camp? Which base camp? Zaft's?"

"Well, yes. Is there a problem with that?"

"Problem? Of course it's a problem! You are coming home this instant," Kira burst as he took Cagalli's arm and started dragging her to his stallion. "Forget your things. We leave right now."

"Hey, it hurts," she struggled, pulling herself back. "It hurts, stop!"

His fingers felt like chains wrapped in her arms, like the ones that bound a prisoner in death row. She had to unclasp them off. Kira stood in disbelief, saying, "What are you doing? This is no time to play stubborn!"

"I am not!" she argued. They were lucky no one was around to make a scandal out of it. She wanted to say more, but the look in Kira's eyes told her he was dead serious, and this meant that real danger was lurking.

"What has happened to you this past week, Cagalli? Can we start there?"

She knew her brother was trying his best to stay calm. The events of the past week fell from her lips as she had seen them happen, except for her traumatic fit and her encounters with Zaft's Commander. Then she told her brother what kept her from leaving base camp.

"Luna—Lacus knows her—Zaft's head doctor is offering me a post in the medical team. They really need more medical practitioners there; if you can only see them struggle when they need to attend to dozens of injured soldiers. They need me there. So please Kira, let me…"

"No."

Kira's voice still reflected an angered tempered, and Cagalli didn't like it.

"It makes so much more sense for me to stay here, Kira. Here, I can use my medical expertise to actually _help_ people. I won't ever have to leave base camp—the soldiers will be brought in, we'll treat them, and that's it. It seems like such a small thing, but it'll be a big help for a lot of people. I can save lives. There is so much more I can do here than in…"

"Than where?"

Kira's eyes were stern, and Cagalli knew she had plucked a delicate string. For its royalty, Orb must be second to none.

"I'm not fed up with Orb. I never will be. I love my country, and you know it. But I'm fed up with being the palace wallflower. Always beautiful, always perfect, always useless! Making a difference to other people's lives, not just as a mediator passing their requests to the king, but something more… concrete. I want to help them… with my own hands! I'm sick and tired of sitting around doing nothing!"

Sound went into a temporary hiatus, long enough for Cagalli to hear the falling drops of the sapphire fountains, and the dancing leaves…

"You do realize you're betraying Orb by helping an enemy country, do you?" Kira's voice was chillingly even.

"I want to do this not as Orb's princess, but as a human being. These men are men nonetheless, born of the same soil as we were. They need me in the medical ward," her voice faded softly, almost to whispers. "And Zaft, as far as I know, had never launched an attack to Orb."

Killing the conversation with a long wordless hush, the hard facts hit Cagalli. Hard.

"What do you mean? They're planning one?"

"We've been preparing for two years now. Lt. La Flaga came to me one day with the patrol report. The information came from an asset."

"A spy?"

"Not quite. But if it comes from Mwu, it has to be accurate," looking around to see if anyone was listening, he continued. "We have to leave Cagalli, especially you. They're not watching out for you _because_ they don't know who you are. The moment they find out, I can bet anything they would have everyone alarmed, looking for you. I don't know what they'll do to you when that time comes."

Kira was right. One week is enough for a spy to gather useful information. The mere fact that she was foreign wound incite suspicion among the soldiers.

"It's always like this," Cagalli dispersed, full of frustration. "You always need to protect me. Do you have any idea how much it sickens me to the stomach that I'm so weak and useless, and that I always need to tuck tail and hide when danger comes?"

"That's not it, Cagalli. I thought we've dealt with this before."

For every endeavor he had to engage in, Cagalli was always nagging about how she couldn't help Kira. For such cases, Kira always had the same excuse.

"There are better ways to help, Cagalli, and this isn't one of them."

o+

Weaving through the crowd again, Cagalli laid the flowers she had brought for the tribute and prayed for the deceased. Tonight, she was bound for Orb, and she could just hope Luna and the others would forgive her for not bidding them goodbye. They had been so kind to Cagalli in the past few days that the idea of facing them in war seemed so terrible. In a few weeks' time, their nations would face each other as enemies. Her brother's army would defend Orb from Zaft's forces, which, Cagalli knew, Orb was not ready for.

_So that's why he was so interested_, she thought, remembering the Commander's interrogations about Orb. She was relieved she had not answered them the way he may have hoped, nor had she given him anything useful. Zaft and Orb knew little of each other, and when one had gained the tactical advantage, the other was bound to fail.

_Information?_

As she popped out of the crowd, Cagalli pulled Kira into a dark alley.

"What?" he snapped. His sister's movements were often rash.

"Do you have the slightest clue what Zaft's army is like?"

The question was vague, but Kira answered anyway, "It's big, that I know. Not less than 30, 000."

"They have 20, 000 with them right now, and that's not even half of it. I've heard from the soldiers that there are twelve divisions, having 5, 000 men each.

"60, 000 men?"

"At least. They're not stupid, either. Less than 200 Zaft soldiers were lost in the siege."

"As for Heliopolis?"

"They lost 5, 000."

Kira felt his legs weakened, his back falling against a wall. But there was no way he'd be a lunatic like Azrael. He was better than that.

"Zaft sticks out like a sore thumb," Cagalli continued. "They're big. But they know how to keep secrets. You need an infiltration, a spy. Someone to inform you of their movements."

His questions turned to realization.

"Kira, let _me_ be the spy. They don't suspect me for anything, and they're welcoming me with open arms. _I can help you._"

"But Cagalli…"

"If there's a better way to help, tell me."

He wanted to argue more, but the spark in his sister's eyes sealed his lips. Saddened, he came to admit, "No, there isn't."

"It's settled then. Send a messenger—someone I know, alright?—to Lunius in two days. Zaft will be headed for the city to claim it. If I find out more, I'll tell him."

He was silent, unsure of his next move.

"Don't worry, Kira, I'll be fine," Cagalli ruffled his brother's hair playfully.

_This would aid the country greatly, but at what cost?_

"Don't you trust your best student? I promise I'll put everything you've taught me to good use."

"Cagalli."

"What?"

Kira had never let anyone lay a menacing hand on her. The poor man would taste his sword if he did anything to Kira's little sister. He vowed to protect her no matter what, and there he was, about to send his sister to a mission that might cost them her life.

"I'm not a child anymore," she spoke softly, gazing into those doleful amethyst eyes. "I can handle this. I promise to come back, no matter what."

Now it was time to let her go. "I trust you, Cagalli. Take care of yourself."

Cagalli's lips touched her brother's cheek, reassuring him that her promises were not made to be broken. She made her way back to base camp, with a strengthened resolve to accomplish her new mission.

oooooo

something you don't get? Feel free to drop a review or a PM, I prefer reviews though. Thanks to my good friend Tere (her pen name's really long, so ill just give you what I call her.) for helping me regain my gusto in writing fics. See ya round people.


	11. The Vanity of Pride

Hello, again. So this chap came in a little late, sorry for that :). Hm.. I'll start by saying I'm not sure if people are going to be happy with this chap. I'll warn you that Athrun and Cagalli have not found their way here (so asucaga fans, don't hit me with rotten tomatoes! Oh the hhhhooooooorrrrrrrrooooooorrrrrrrr!), so that's a big minus, plus this chap focuses on a bunch of characters you either hate (who's the most hatable guy in destiny?) or don't know. If you can't remember Miguel, he's one of the Reds that died in the very first eps, and Fredrick was one of Rau's subordinates, namely, the one Athrun and Dearka saluted to when Vesalius exploded in Seed. Again, I have not seen Seed to well to remember, so tell me if I made any mistakes in characterization. Anyway, I hope people don't really rant on the fact that this does not feed fandom addiction, but I'd rather have you appreciate or disdain the concepts implied, depending on what you think is right or wrong (ok, more philosophical stuff.. sorry, but I can't help it).

If you see someone named Nerod, he's an OC. He's so minor I don't find it necessary to name him after an actual character.

PS I hope you still remember the seven Southern cities in this fic… the first part might be confusing if you don't. Ok, I'll shut up now and get on with the next chap. Enjoy… hopefully :)

Disclaimer: The author of this fic does not own gundam seed/destiny, or its characters, because if I claimed I did, would delete my story—wouldn't it?—and the copyright people will sue me. Any similarities from other fics are purely coincidental, and so are any allusions to real events, places and people.

oooooo

Chapter 11: The Vanity of Pride

Endless mounds of sand as far as the eye can see. Dry, barren… 

_Utterly useless._

Many knew—and most envied—that Zaft and Orb seemed to have caught all of nature's blessings. Their lands were parcels booming with favorable conditions for production. From the rich, fertile soil sprouted crops of various kinds, providing their people with more than they can consume.

_Zaft has an agricultural economy. What use would this_ _land be to them? _

True. For all the necessities they lacked, most of the South looked to the West for the crops they could not grow on native soil. Heliopolis, being the wealthiest of them, could afford many luxuries, including half of the produce Zaft's merchants made available for trade. Though not half as wealthy, most Huwebans and Sabadoans could afford Western trading prices, and those who could not could always turn to Vierna and Martius for produce. Those lands were fueled by the sea, replenished constantly by the rise and fall of the tides. The two cities often made just enough for themselves, with little to spare for exchange. Nevertheless, the far Southern cities were willing to take whatever graces were available, including the occasional trips Eastern traders made, despite the arduous journey—for the East was considerably farther from them than the West was—that accompanied trading with them.

That left Lunius and Miyercuria to scrimp with less than half the original market of Zaft's harvest. They had little to offer with little gold and silver to exchange for food. Western traders had always thought business with these two cities was a losing venture, and most of them took detours to the richer cities further south—those who _can _afford to pay for their goods at the price they demanded. Those who did trade with Lunius and Miyercuria were small-time businessmen, whose lack of funds kept them from exploring the trade routes in the Far South, and whose goods were never enough to satisfy the cities' hungry people. Lunius and Miyercuria were used to the desert's hostility, but sometimes, the people could only take too much.

Zaft controlled trade, among other things. To every coin that passed the merchant's hand, a part of it goes to the Zaft treasury, making the nation stronger and wealthier with every exchange. Now, they no longer wished to control the South's economy alone—they wanted to control the South itself.

_They already have so much, but it seems they can never have enough. But what good will this desert do to them? All there is to this place is sand, more sand, and a cluster of hungry, deprived people._

King Miguel Aiman of Lunius took out a scarf and wiped it on his sweated brow. It has been increasingly hot lately, warmer than most summers of the past. It had been five years since he took over for his father, who had died in battle against their arch nemesis Miyercuria. For this reason, there was no way he could accept the lady's offer, which he had received the previous morning.

o+

"My king, someone wishes to have an audience with you."

The court, which before was almost always empty save for the king's presence, was nearly full that day. Since Lunius had received news of the Heliopolian siege, the court has been held up in a stir, wary of the foreseeable attack.

"What shall we do? We have not yet even recovered from our recent loses."

"How many do we have left?"

"Around 7, 000, most of which are injured."

"And the supplies, do we have a chance?"

_To put it in words that all of you would understand, no,_ the king would have told them, but Fredrik Ades, one of the king's lieutenants and his closest confidante, stopped him.

"All this time, we have fought and lost our men to Miyercuria, and never did they take notice, but now…" Fredrik grunted, throwing a disgusted look at Lunius' ministers, scrambling in front of them.

"Perhaps they realized that this time, they may actually have to die." Rolling his eyes, the king wished to think no more of these dimwits—he never could stand ministers anyway. In the past, they believed puny Miyercuria would never be able to conquer Lunius' 'elite' army, turning their eyes away from the army's real state—a few battalions of physically worn out, barely armed, frustrated soldiers. Ministers were often so…

"Useless."

The new voice caused a temporary suspension of chatter, all eyes focusing on a tall, rather bulky figure standing arrogantly at the door.

"Useless, senseless chatter, worries and lamentations. Just what makes you think Zaft will come for Lunius?"

The king and his lieutenants exchanged looks, their minds running the same hateful name synonymous to arrogance, insensitivity, bootlicking, shamelessness, and cowardice.

In short, sheer stupidity.

Yuuna Roma Seiran.

Born of a wealthy noble family in Sabadoa, Yuuna was a public relations minister in the royal court. In political terms, he was an ambassador, but in reality, he was no more than an extra official paid by the people's taxes. His lack of capacity and common sense made him unsuitable for diplomatic missions and his exorbitant, out-of-place self-regard made him difficult to work with even in domestic affairs. Because of these, he was kept at home, more as a receptionist than a government official, screening the king's less important guests. Of course, the men sent to him were carefully selected to include only messengers and errand runners from neighboring countries, to be sure that even if Yuuna deliberately insults them, no army would come running for his head.

_Why the Sabadoan king puts up with this dimwit, only Heaven knows._

"Lord Seiran, how pleasant," Lt. Ades coughed, the last word reluctantly describing Yuuna's arrival. "It is for you to come. We deem Sabadoa is well?"

"Lieutenant, do not change the subject. I am here," Yuuna gestured, flashing a revolting smile. "On a mission."

_A mission? _The lieutenant thought. _Good Lord, what was the Sabadoan king thinking?_

"A mission I have decided to take on… myself," Yuuna said proudly, as if to flaunt that breath taking decision he had just made.

Fredrik breathed a sigh of relief. _And to think I almost thought the Sabadoan king had gone nutty._

"And this mission is?" the king asked flatly. He took no efforts to compliment his unwanted guest—he didn't deserve it.

"A mission," Yuuna suspended his words, finding the entire court—namely, the ministers—was listening. Oh, how this goof loved the attention. "To enlighten your distraught souls with my advice shipped from the grand glory of the heavens above!"

Yuuna's 'promising' offer lifted the gloom from the ministers' faces. They knew how stupid Yuuna was, but this, for them, was the best option they had. Standing on tiptoe, they waited anxiously for the revelation.

"Lunius," Yuuna started, gaining a regal air unfitting for his mediocrity. "Will not be taken. That, my friends, is a fact."

Now, Yuuna truly, _honestly _wanted to help. When he had heard of rumors regarding Zaft's expected invasion of Lunius, he knew that the king's court must be in hysteria. It came to him that to improve political relations between Lunius and Sabadoa, a Sabadoan must come up with a solution to Lunius' predicament. He believed he was doing it for Sabadoa's own good. After a full sleepless night of contemplation, he had come up with a "brilliant" idea. And so he decided to take the five-day trip from Sabadoa to Lunius, carrying a message that he believed would be the city's consolation.

Honestly, all he wanted to do is cheer them up.

_I know! A doomed city's salvation is the hope of being saved, even if the hope consolidating them maybe false. This will make them feel better. Oh, I am so brilliant! _

"Look at this city. It has no real wealth to speak of. The people are hungry, dissatisfied… Lunius is not even strategically located for trade, war, or anything else. What does Zaft want, territory? Bragging rights? Glory? Is there 'glory' in defeating a war-beaten, exhausted army, practically about to fall apart? What makes you think that Zaft would waste its precious time to conquer a dilapidated city like this?"

With an egotistical gesture he had borrowed from one of Orb's most eloquent debaters, he ended his delivery, shocking the entire courtroom with the "truth". It was true, how Lunius' walls were one of the poorest and how the people lived the most frugal of lives, but Yuuna just had to rub it in one humiliating blow.

"Common sense, my friends, common sense! Had common sense been so uncommon lately?"

Little did Yuuna know that his version of "common sense" doesn't make the slightest bit of sense at all.

"That's it? That's what you came here for?"

Lt. Ades could not take this sitting down. He neared the arrogant noble, staring at him from head to foot, disgusted by the very marks—impurities, rather—Yuuna's boots made on the court's flooring.

"All you came here for is to bother us with your pointless opinions and belittle us with your deliberate insults. What do you take us for, stooges? How dare you insult our city—of all places in front of the king!"

The lieutenant was infuriated. Never has he heard such outrageous statements spoken of his city, and this obtuse parody of a savior was not to get away with it. He drew his sword, pointing it at Yuuna's neck. Yuuna took several steps back, tripping on the rough adobe flooring, his bottom thudding flat on the rugged stone.

"Please, please... I WAS ONLY TRYING TO HELP!"

"Get up," the lieutenant spat. "Get up, I said, and fight like a man. Take back what you said of our city, or taste my sword's blade. Where's your confidence now? Get up and fight!"

Shaking at the sight of steel threatening to slice him in half, Yuuna curled into a corner, fumbling his hands over his face.

_Oh my gosh, what am I going to do, what am I going to say! Hold, it, what did I do wrong? I only wanted to help, but these ingrates…_

As if he had read his mind, Ades began to approach the crouched simpleton.

_Alright, you're not ingrates! Oh… someone help me, please, anyone…Divine gods, please give me the wisdom to convince them I wish them no wrong!_

"Please, Sir… have mercy! I only wished to help you… to unnerve your troubled hearts… that's right, to temporarily take away your fears!"

_Temporarily?_ the ministers thought in unison. Ades lowered his sword.

"That's right. We all know Lunius doesn't stand a chance against Zaft, right?"

The subsequent glares he received told him he has snapped another delicate string.

"No, wait… you misunderstood!"

_What is there to misunderstand? _the lieutenant grunted mentally. _Is it worth the time to understand the roots of your idiocy?_

"All I was trying to do was to comfort you," Yuuna managed, the spirits scared out of him. "The knowledge… of knowing… what you know…"

He stuttered, looking for the right words that would spare him. He felt Ades raising his sword again.

"Knowing the perhaps Zaft would consider your incompetence and deem it an act of barbarianism to attack!"

Seeing how pathetic he looked, Ades thought that it would be a disgrace to the army if he dared lay a finger on this idiot. _Just get lost,_ he thought. _Your insolence can make itself useful elsewhere; quit polluting the air with it. _

But Yuuna just had to say more.

"Then again… we can never be sure. Maybe Zaft's just power hungry and wants to conquer the world…"

He was not their savior after all.

"All is lost! All is lost!"

"Zaft will come for us, and we will all be skinned alive!"

"No, I'm too young to die!"

"Silence!"

The voice boomed with authority—the king had been quiet all this time. There was no way he'd let this mockery pass him by.

"Cowards, weaklings, imbeciles! Have you no courage at all!"

He was red with anger and disappointment. The men of his court were weak. Had it not been for the blood ties their forefathers shared, he would have finished them off himself. They had little faith in the military, little did they care of war, and less did they care of the people.

"Selfish, stupid bastards, all of you! Have you abandoned your lineage? Do you not see the blood of your fellowmen splattered at your feet? At any point of your wretched lives, did you ever seek for their welfare, or anyone else's, for that matter? What have you done for this city? None! You call yourselves men of the king's court—you dare call yourselves men! You fools are nothing more than scraps of flesh clumped together to make up your sorry existences. Worthless, useless scum!"

He had let all his sentiments out in one intense release, years of self-control shattering within seconds of outburst. Fury was still rabid in his face as he scanned the ministers' frozen faces.

"If we will die by Zaft's blade, then so be it. But we will die fighting! We will not hide behind these palace walls, nor will we let our ancestry be remembered in shame for their incompetent descendants. To this city our fallen comrades have given their lives, and we shall do the same. We will fight to the death!"

King Aiman clutched his fists so tightly, that Ades could feel him bleed. The latter sheathed his sword as he saw the ministers bow their heads in defeat.

It was coming. _They _were coming. Ades knew how the ministers felt. Whatever little they knew of the Heliopolian siege—the horror of the army's massacre, Azrael's gruesome death—was enough to haunt their wildest nightmares.

Perhaps the best choice _was_ to surrender, and hope Zaft would not dare lower themselves into decimating a conceding army. That way, lives would be spared, the people would be safe and probably guaranteed a better life. By then, Lunius would be part of Zaft, and from the rumors he had heard from Heliopolis, they might just have an equal footing on the crop trade, more jobs to employ the people with, and protection from Miyercuria's constant pillaging. These were things the king could not—and probably never could—guarantee his people. In this regard, he was absolutely helpless.

But Lt. Ades knew his king would never surrender. His king maybe helpless, but he was proud. He took pride in being Lunius' king, no matter how frustrated he was in alleviating the people's suffering. He took pride in his men, who rely on him for their own strength, their motivation in the face of war.

To this king Lt. Ades gave his loyalty. No matter how slim the chances of winning were, he would always follow his king—even to death.

"But my King, do you seriously think you have a fighting chance against Zaft's army?"

The voice had never echoed in the ash-shaded walls. All heads turned to see an unfamiliar figure standing at the door.

"Who are you?" Ades broke. "And how did you get here?"

She didn't seem to hear. Her steps just drew closer, approaching the king. Knowing it was he she sought, the king decided to entertain this mystery of a guest.

"You are both unexpected and unknown. Perhaps you would like to start by introducing yourself?"

Her smile was light, the soft skin on her lips glossy, matching her sparkling blue eyes. Pink, flowing locks brushed on her hips that seemed to sway to some imperceptible tune.

"Does it matter? I came to help you."

"Yes, it does matter. And help us with what? We asked for no aid."

She eyed him playfully, like a woman amused with the proud gestures of men.

"Today, that is what you say, but in two days, will you be saying the same thing?"

He sensed where she was getting. From the corner of his eye, he could see a minister gasp.

"Zaft will come for Lunius in two days."

Buzzes of distraught flooded the king's ears. The lady had come to confirm what they feared the most. Lunius was next to fall.

"Silence! Yes, my Lady, Zaft will come for Lunius, we are fully aware of that."

The silence resumed.

"Are you hear to inform us of something we already know, or is there more you wish to say?"

Her gaze perforated inside the room, creating an invisible illusion, engulfing the rest of the court in her spell. Yet the king took little notice of her conjured hallucinations, for in her eyes lay the unpalatable hint of pity.

She was toying with him.

"The kings of Lunius are no doubt proud," she resumed. "No matter how desperate the situation gets."

"By that you mean?"

"Zaft will come with a force of 20, 000 men."

The number excited several gasps.

"So? War does not always favor the majority."

The king's statement excited even more gasps.

"Are you out of your mind?" one of the ministers shrieked.

"Our forces aren't half as large. What are you thinking?" another cried.

"You're disillusioned. Crazy!"

The king took no notice of his hysterical ministers. He eyed the mysterious lady in front of him, trying to discern her curious character.

The lady noticed this, and spoke with the sweetest voice, "Ministers, ministers, is their necessity for such distraught? Your king is right. In favorable conditions, the minority can win over an immense majority.

"But of course, you cannot win against such a huge majority," she continued, seeing the hope falter in their eyes.

"Where are you getting to?"

"Combined, your forces will amount to 12, 000. That will be enough to ward off Zaft's forces."

"Are you telling me to…"

"An alliance," the lady drew even closer, her face mere inches from the king's. "Merge your armies with Miyercuria."

His narrowed eyes bulged. The lady drew back, a satisfied smile carved on her lips.

"Merge your armies with Miyercuria's, and you will win."

"A merge?" the lieutenant, who had fallen silent since the lady's arrival, finally spoke. "Miyercuria would betray us before Zaft's horses hit our sands. I'd rather die than see a Miyercurian side by side with Lunius!"

"Lieutenant, stand down," the king restrained him. Ades immediately recoiled, surprised the king stopped him.

"It was by his father's hand that my father died, and his father died by my hand," the king explained, his voice more feeble. "Nerod will never consider an alliance, and neither will I."

"To death?" the lady asked, her voice filled with a plastic sense of concern.

"To death."

"And your men? Would you waste their lives on a futile attempt to save your city, or should I say…your egos?"

The king clenched his fists, knowing the lady spoke the truth.

"Don't take it wrongly, your Highness. But do you not agree that 12 has more chance of winning than 7?"

She leaned closer to him again, her lips grazing the side of his head, touching the skin of his left ear. Her words seemed to flow perfectly off her supple lips…

Words that seemed to prove effective yet again.

"If you succeed, where in a merge you most likely will," she whispered, warm air tickling the king's ear. "You will be remembered as the army that brought down the world's most powerful race. Forget the old blood conflicts you had with Miyercuria. Merge. Isn't victory against Zaft more glorious, more honorable…"

She was tempting him, luring him into her maze like she has done to so many other men.

"More satisfying than resisting the necessity to ride with your arch rival? It's such a small price to pay for such a big reward. Isn't such honor so…"

Indeed, she was temptation herself.

"Tempting?"

He felt his world stop, the words dissolving his resistance to a frothy pulp. He was engulfed in her words, unable to control his faculties. The scent of her clothes was dazing, her eyes even more dazzling. He gave her one disoriented look, consumed in the lady's unwavering smile.

"I will speak to the Miyercurian king of this matter. Till then, I advise you to prepare your men for battle. Tomorrow, you shall receive King Nerod's answer," she spoke calmly as she stepped away from the king, the soft, venereal wind on his ear slowly fleeting. "I am glad you chose to be more sensible, your Highness."

The sound of her steps on the adobe floor made little difference in the silent trepidation. Unmindful of the fear around her, the lady made her way to the door.

"Lady…"

She stopped short at the entrance.

_Men just can't get enough._

"What makes you think…"

_This is too easy for me._

"That I have consented?"

"I beg your pardon?" she spun, slight agitation surfacing on her cheeks.

"Our conflicts with Miyercuria go farther than my father's death," he continued, staring point blank at the now unbelieving lady. "Too many of our people have died by their swords."

The resolution in his tone was unmistakable.

"Our founders will never forgive me if I disgraced the throne by allying with our most hated enemy. Circumstances, no matter how extreme, will not be accounted for. Lunius will not merge its army with Miyercuria."

Puzzled, the lady threw the king a doubtful look. His voice had the resolve and power of a king's, but she could not be mistaken.

"Do not lie to yourself, your Highness."

The king's mouth opened, as if words were to come out of them. But the truth blocked them.

"You fear Zaft. You know you don't stand a chance."

She had delivered the truth in one blow, and it was brutal.

"I'll be back tomorrow morning."

Minutes after she left, an ear splitting cry replaced the stillness as someone clumsily dashed out of the room.

"Spare me! Spare me! God save me!"

The ministers should have been ashamed of their lamentations earlier.

"I'm too young to die!"

Yuuna's scream was louder than all of their keening combined.

o+

Outside the iron-barred windows, a merry batch of kids picked fruits off a willowy tree whose branches hung just above the palace fortress. They munched on the red delights as they picked them off the tree, until two guards started yelling at them, telling the children to scram off the palace's property. They abided, giggling as they went.

King Aiman had grown fond of those kids, their smiles precious to him.

For years, Miyercuria had tried, again and again, to capture their larger, less vulnerable neighbor. Somehow, all their kings were able to engrave the same story on the minds of their sons, those that would become kings themselves, thus perpetuating the endless chain of invading attempts that for all these years have been unsuccessful. Centuries ago, Miyercuria was part of Lunius, but a group of nobles were successfully able to launch a revolt against the Lunian sovereign. The city was split, two walls and a stretch of sand delineating the divided state. Since then, the cities sought to reclaim each other's territories, saying that the other was rightfully theirs.

_Miyercuria cannot be trusted. They'd jump at any opportunity they'd find. They'll let us die in the middle of it, figure out a way to send Zaft's tail back to the West, and claim the city for their own,_ he thought.

Then it dawned on him. _But wait, Miyercuria's army isn't even a fourth of Zaft's size. There is no way they'd win. Zaft would annihilate them in less than an hour._

"Would you consider the lady's offer?"

The king had always welcomed Lt. Ades' fatherly voice. A lieutenant of the Lunian army since his father's days, Fredrik Ades was his counsel. In troubling times, he always seemed to enlighten him.

This time, his words seemed to bring out more questions than answers.

"What do _you_ think?"

"Personally," the lieutenant whisked, his hair fluttering in the soft, soothing breeze. "No."

"I see."

"And as for you, your Highness? Would you consider?"

Miyercuria's malicious interest was one thing. What really kept the king from consenting to the alliance was something far more difficult to disregard, especially for someone as dignified as him.

"Is it a crime to be proud, Fredrik?"

He valued his dignity above anything else, greater than all the gold and silver of his court, perhaps even more than his own country and his people. He lived by honor, and he had not planned to die without it. The pride he had for his lineage reminded him of Miyercuria's betrayal, and he knew that calling for aid was a deliberate slap on his ancestry's face.

Somehow, he could hear they saying, _Don't you even dare…_

"Could my king grace me by answering this question?" Ades broke his thoughts.

"Yes."

"Do you think we have a chance of winning if we merge forces with Miyercuria?"

He did not expect those words to come from Ades.

"Yesterday, you said you would rather die than see our armies joined."

"I would gladly die for my city's honor," Ades asserted dolefully. "But I cannot let my fellowmen die with me. I've thought of it more carefully now. Pride is one thing, but a human life… "

"We'd be damned in heaven if we agreed to a merge. Our forefathers want us to reclaim Miyercuria, not ally ourselves to it."

"Perhaps, but we're facing the same enemy now. There is more honor in preserving lives than in playing stubborn. Let the heavens damn us, that's better than seeing the army butchered without a fighting chance."

The king hated to admit it, but he was right.

"My king, I am not about to give this city to anyone. But I know you understand we would have a better chance of winning with a bigger army. Please, my king. Please reconsider."

His words were sincere, encouraging. Momentarily, they cleared his mind, helping him to think.

There was more to being king than pride.

Just then, the doors swung open, a plump sculpt of a devil bulging at the door. Behind him trailed a number of fully armed soldiers, followed by an appealing young lady.

Lunius' lady guest had kept her promise. Somehow, she was able to convince King Adolf Nerod of Miyercuria to engage in an alliance with King Aiman. How she did it, only the walls of Miyercuria's palace knew.

"My king," she spoke sweetly, treachery betraying her innocent tone. "King Nerod has come to give you an offer you cannot refuse."

Their eyes locked in a suffocating clasp. One could feel the tension between them, years of conflict resonating.

"Desperate times call for desperate measures. I came for an alliance. A merge of our armies. Do you consent?"

His offer was forced, reluctant, even threatening. For the first time in their lives, they were facing a common enemy, and for the first time in history, two kings were thinking the same thing.

Pride was of no use today. Today, it was better to slap it in the face and shove it down one's throat.

King Aiman motioned to speak, making his decision.

"Yes."

oooooo

Again, if you don't get something, feel free to say so. By now I'm betting you should have guessed who the lady guest was. Please be nice and review, writers of fanfiction need a lot more encouragement than you think (gets lots of nods from other writers). Yes, it is so true. See ya.


	12. The Downside to Being the Younger One

Hm.. finally. I had a lot of trouble getting this chap posted, which included my flash drive getting busted. Anyway, I don't want to prolong the agony anymore, so I'll just get on with the next chap.

This is actually one of my favorite chaps, mainly because of the Athrun-Shinn conversation somewhere in the middle. Supposedly a light and funny (I really hope it is) chap. Hey is anyone here a younger sibling? Know how it feels (heh, I don't know myself :) )? Learn what's so depressing about being the younger one (Meyrin's younger than Luna and Cagalli, Shinn's younger than Athrun, and Athrun's younger than Rau). Enjoy:)

Disclaimer: The author of this fic does not own gundam seed/destiny, or its characters, because if I claimed I did, would delete my story—wouldn't it?—and the copyright people will sue me. Any similarities from other fics are purely coincidental, and so are any allusions to real events, places and people.

oooooo

Chapter 12: The Downside to Being the Younger One

Excess was one of the soldier's greatest foes. The stress they had to endure in battle was already bad enough. No matter how well trained they were, inwardly, they had to be complaining.

"This heat is unbearable."

"It's summer, of course it's hot."

"I know, you loudmouth. You don't have to remind me."

"Watch your tone. The men might be listening. We don't want them to think lowly of you, do we?"

"I'll have your neck someday, Elsman."

"The pleasure is all mine, Yzak, anytime."

Dearka's smirk often irritated Yzak. Add the heat and we would find a very irate lieutenant.

"Shouldn't you be with your men right now?"

"It's alright. Besides, I have a colonel taking over. You should take a break once in a while. Use your subordinates; that's what they're here for."

"No thanks, I believe I am responsible enough to know my post must be filled at all times. You're in ranks, remember?"

"I asked permission."

"Unbelievable how the Commander can be so loose on you."

"Athrun doesn't mind," Dearka kicked on his horse, taking off to run up front to his division. "Anyway, he wanted me to inform you that we must ride up front. I think he wants to deliver a few instructions."

"In ranks? That's quite unlikely."

Nonetheless, Yzak took off to the leading division where the Commander had asked them to assemble. Dearka took a stop somewhere on the way, saying that he must pick up someone Athrun had requested for.

o+

"I'm happy you came with us, Cagalli," Luna started as she rode behind the first infantry division. The medical team often took their position somewhere sandwiched among the infantries, so they could easily get to anyone that might get hurt in case of an ambush.

Meyrin approved, happy that another girl was joining the team. Cagalli was like another sister to her. "Yes, but Cagalli, wouldn't the people back home be worried? How about Lacus?"

"True, I haven't seen her since the festival. She does know you're coming with us, right?" Luna said, yanking her horse's reins to keep it steady.

"I've talked to her last night before we left," Cagalli answered, slightly disturbed that she was referring to Kira as a girl. "She was a bit sad about it, but I'm sure she understands."

"That's good," Meyrin smiled, a slight blush tinting her cheeks, one that did not go unnoticed by her sister.

The Zaft army had already set out for Lunius, leaving Heliopolis under Arthur Trine's governance and the new Heliopolian army's protection. Cagalli looked back at the golden city, recalling the long line of events that had changed her life greatly.

_This is it. This is where my mission starts._ Heaving a deep breath of warm desert air, Cagalli reviewed the mission she had decided to embark on. _Retrieve useful information about Zaft's strategies, its plans, its upcoming onslaughts, everything you know Orb will find useful. Relay this information to whomever Kira will send as messenger, and return to base camp to rejoin the Crusade. _If she kept a low profile and listened closely to the soldiers' conversations, she was bound to get the job done.

_But the soldiers aren't briefed until right before the actual attack. All the useful information seems to be tucked away among the higher ranks. _Cagalli wasn't to get a generous dispersal of information at her feet; she'd have to work for them. Somehow, she had to gain the trust of Zaft's superiors, those who came in close contact with classified details.

That meant she had to befriend the lieutenants. Weighing her options, she sighed.

_Lt. Elsman seemed nice. Besides, I already had a good start, _reminding herself of Dearka's regards for her treatment of the governor days ago. _I'd have no trouble befriending him. _

_Lt. Joule isn't much of a socialite, but I'm sure I can make him feel easy around me. By the way Lt. Elsman taunted the pants off him, he must have a soft side, _Cagalli figured as she remembered how Dearka made Yzak completely lose control of his temper.

_Lt. Westenfluss? He's rather quiet. The composed one, I guess. It'll be quite easy to engage conversations with him. _She knew little of Heine's personality. He talked the least among the three young lieutenants. But he seemed like a nice person anyway.

The lieutenants heading the first three divisions of the army would not prove too hard to befriend. Cagalli sifted through the divisions, peering among the ranks through the torrid heat. Heine's cavalier division—the only cavalier of the four—rode up front, leading the rest of the army. Dearka's first and Yzak's second infantry divisions followed close by.

Suddenly, a gust of desert sand blew from beside the ranks of men, sputtering on the medical team's faces. A stallion from the third infantry division galloped at breakneck speed, running to the leading platoon. Cagalli recognized it to be Lt. Le Creuset.

Few knew much about this man. The mask he wore concealed not only his face but also his full identity—not even his men knew what he really looked like. He wasn't aloof at all; in fact, when he did talked to his men, he always wore a mysterious smile. Nobody knew what played in that cunning mind of his, but being the oldest of the lieutenants who had joined the Crusade, he must be the most knowledgeable of the four.

_I don't think there's anyone who knows more about strategy than him, _Cagalli contemplated. But there was little chance she'd find the opportunity to speak with the lieutenant, since he never stayed out during the bonfires set up by the cavaliers at night. He would rather stay in his tent, perhaps to think, or to do whatever he did behind closed flaps.

"Would you like to ride up front, Cagalli?" Luna asked, still wiping the dust off her face.

She nodded, as she motioned to heighten her mare's pace. Luna was already ahead, talking to Shinn. Cagalli was about to kick it when she saw Meyrin struggling with her colt. Pulling on the loose reins flying around the colt's neck, Cagalli calmed it as the younger doctor-in-training held on her for support.

"Thanks," she murmured. Cagalli would have sped off, but stopped on her tracks instead when she noticed something.

_Is it just me, or is she blushing? _

Soon, the two resumed their strut, Meyrin following close behind.

"Lady Cagalli…"

"Drop the 'Lady', just call me Cagalli."

Meyrin seemed to blush even harder. Now Cagalli was really concerned.

"Are you feeling well?"

"Uhm… yes… well…"

"Meyrin, I can't help but notice, but…"

"Yes?"

Her face was awfully flushed right now.

Do you happen to have a… well…"

Meyrin's head was bowed low.

"How do I put this in words?" Cagalli stammered, flushing red herself. "Don't think of this as anything, but…"

The words seemed to connect with Meyrin. "Yes?"

_I don't want to be blunt, but…_ "Meyrin, we've known each other for quite well now, and I can't help noticing. Why is it that you blush so often when you're around me?"

The question took Meyrin by surprise. She rubbed her cheeks to bring them back to normal, but the friction and the heat could only make them redder.

"Oh, why do I have to be like this all the time?" Meyrin mumbled frustrated. "Why do you have to say the exact same thing?"

This startled Cagalli. "Uhm, I'm sorry Meyrin, I really was too blunt, wasn't I?"

"Oh no, it's just that," before she could say another word, a deep blush crept again across her face. Cagalli seemed to understand. It was the same tint of red that tinted Lacus's cheeks whenever they spoke of Kira. "It's just that… you remind me of someone."

A pair of hazel eyes glowed with mischief, but then realized the unintentional insult. "Wait, I remind you of a guy?" _I will admit that I am a bit boyish at times, but never was I mistaken for a man!_

"It's not what you think!" Meyrin corrected, afraid her friend was offended. "It's like, there's a connection… between the both of you. I can't explain it. Whenever you're with us, I always end up thinking of him."

"Really?" Cagalli giggled. "What's he like? Are we similar in anyway?"

"Actually, you're completely different. He doesn't talk too much and he's really serious all he time. Whenever I see him, he's always on business, so I never get to talk to him too much."

"Well, it can't be all that bad. You just have to find the right time…"

"He doesn't even know I exist," Meyrin let out a dry laugh.

"Introduce yourself then!" Cagalli urged her. "Who's the lucky guy anyway?"

_She's so nice to me_, Meyrin thought. "Well, actually it's the…"

"Cagalli! Meyrin!"

Luna caused their conversation to end abruptly, right before Meyrin could confess her undying love for a special man in her life.

"Hurry up! We don't have all day."

"In fact, Luna, we do," Cagalli spat, irritated. "I'm sorry, Meyrin, I didn't get his name. What was it again?"

"It's the…" she was cut again by another voice.

"Ensign, report to the Commander immediately."

Dearka was riding up front with Yzak, apparently in a hurry. Shinn scratched his head, but realized that his iron helmet covered it.

"What does he want from me now?"

"Maybe another delivery?" Luna guessed sarcastically.

"What do I look like, his personal mailman?"

"The Commander has many personal assistants, maybe you bear some resemblance with one of them."

"Ha, very funny, Doctor," Shinn opted to take off, leaving the three girls.

"Delivery?" Cagalli asked Luna.

"Yes. The Commander ordered him to deliver the message to the Heliopolian king."

"Message of what?"

"Warning them that Zaft would attack, and asking of their surrender."

"Why would he warn them beforehand? That'd give them time to prepare."

"Hm… not really. Besides, it's not his style to attack their opponents behind their backs."

_I already did, they refused. _Cagalli remembered what the Commander said the first time they met. _It seems that Zaft warns all their opponents before they attack. Why?_

"I don't get it. You'd have a better chance of winning if you caught your opponents off guard."

"That's what makes Zaft different from all the rest," Luna smiled, her countenance full of pride. "We're not cowards. We face our enemy and tell them early on to give it everything they've got."

_Zaft is a superpower and they know it. Stealth is not their cup of tea. By now, most of the South must have been informed, alerting Lunius of the forthcoming onslaught. And yet, this army is so confident it'll win. Why? Is it because of their size? But some of the armies they will be facing can match Zaft's 20, 000 men in number—surpass, even. Not to mention those armies aren't tired; they'll be ready to fight Zaft's now war-beaten soldiers. This side has more casualties than most of their future opponents. What makes them so sure that everything will go their way?_

Luna broke the train of thought that questioned Zaft's warring prowess. The answer to them was made clear at the very beginning of this Crusade—their assurance that they will never be defeated in battle.

"With the Commander on our side, there's no way we can lose."

o+

Leading the Zaft army's imperial march, the lieutenants along with Shinn and the Commander rode in perfect alignment, with Shinn trailing to the left of his superior Dearka and the lieutenants riding one horse's stride behind Athrun.

"Permission to speak, Commander."

Had he not worn his headgear, the lieutenants would have seen Athrun's weary expression. _Here we go again…_

"Granted. What is it?"

"Sir, I was just wondering," Shinn started in a somewhat innocent tone. "Why is it that I am always your pick for such assignments?"

Dearka stifled a giggle. It was like watching a younger brother argue with his older sibling.

_How cute,_ he thought, grinning underneath his helmet.

"Because you did well the last time," Athrun said sternly. "Take that as a compliment."

"For that, Sir, thank you," though it sounded more like sarcasm than gratitude. "But I was wondering if there's someone else formidable for the job."

Athrun kept his eyes straight ahead, but Shinn knew he was getting to him.

"I mean, with all due _respect_," Shinn's tone emphasizing the last word. "The task is a bit, shall we say, too… _easy_. Perhaps we could assign a private to deliver the message instead?"

The Commander looked unfazed, obviously trying to ignore his haughty subordinate.

"What I am saying, Sir, is that maybe it'd be wiser if I stayed behind and sent one of my men to Lunius instead. That way, just in case an ambush comes, my men are prepared."

The last words were replaced by a lack of them, the gallops standing in their place. Shinn broke this hush.

"What do you think, Sir?"

For a second, Shinn thought he'd convince the Commander. For the first time, the prince of Zaft would yield to him.

_This time, I win._

"Lunius…"

What the… 

"Will not be so easy to infiltrate, Ensign."

_I don't believe this._

Athrun cocked his head sideways, so that his eyes would peer through his helmet's cavity, staring at Shinn. "You won't be able to knock at their front door like you did in Heliopolis."

Shinn was furious. This was going to end the way all their other arguments did, and behind that helmet, Shinn knew his superior was smiling.

"This time, you'll actually have to enter discreetly –as much as possible, not catching the attention of anyone, not even the civilians. They're quite wary of intruders, especially Miyercurians. They can't tell the difference among races, so if they capture you, consider yourself dead."

His words were void of concern, no emotion evident in his powerful demeanor.

Nevertheless, Shinn warded off the response. "It can't be that hard."

_This kid is stubborn_, Dearka commented mentally.

_Luckily, Athrun hasn't blown his top off_, Yzak thought. _Yet._

_Hopefully, he won't be losing his temper anytime soon, _Heine sighed.

_I wonder how long he can put up with him, _Le Creuset snickered, the Cheshire grin on his face glinting with treachery.

"Lunius' fortress is much more well guarded than the one at Heliopolis. At least one platoon is guarding the front gates," Athrun explained, his austerity not faltering. "The palace is a closed domicile—the windows shielded by iron bars reinforced with concrete slabs at night. If you are to get the message through, I suggest you do so by day."

"By day?" Shinn blurted. "But all the guards must be on duty by day!"

He could see Athrun raise an eyebrow. "Do you have a problem with that?"

"Yes, Sir, in fact I do," Shinn stammered. "You're sending me to a suicide mission!"

"Watch your tone, Ensign, you're in ranks," Dearka interjected, noticing some of the cavaliers listening. Shinn will definitely be the topic of discussion later.

"Shu…" he would have told Dearka to shut up, but he remembered he was in ranks _and _in public. _You must be very happy now, Commander._

"Yes, I am sending you to one," Athrun continued. "Is that troubling you?"

Shinn was quiet for a while, but soon noticed that he had to say something. He had been humiliated too much to be completely silenced. "Yes."

Athrun cocked his head back, facing the horizon. His shoulders were relaxed; for this Shinn thought his superior was a strange man. _Why is he always calm? What will it take for me to anger him?_

"For one thing…"

_If you want me dead so badly, just say it._

"You must know…"

_Just shut up and dismiss me._

"That it is safer to break into Lunius by day than by night."

"What?" Shinn spat.

The Commander paused, letting the facts register. "All of their guards are awake by night. Most of them are asleep in the day. Miyercuria attacks by stealth, during the night. Does that make sense to you now?"

Shinn stopped, but continued moving when he felt the cavaliers closing in on him.

"But I'm not saying you should relax. At least ten Miyercurians are tortured weekly behind Lunian walls…"

The ensign gulped, and this did _not _go unnoticed.

"They have this interesting contraption called a spamlock. The suspect is attached to two holes for hands, one for the feet. That one end is rotated, twisting the body clasped to it, very slowly…"

Shinn tried not to show his uneasiness.

"They also have one of those Hadeswallows, where the body is submerged in boiling water and bound to four ropes—one on each limb—so that the mechanism can pull it apart, gradually…"

_He _really _wants me dead._

"And a number of other torture devices. They aren't too friendly with tourists, and they suspect all intruders to be spies--Miyercurians to be exact.

The ensign was stunned to hear his new assignment. His arrogance waved off, he asked, "Just one more question, Commander."

"I'm listening."

"Do you expect me to return from this?"

For one of the few times in his life, Shinn was sincerely asking the Commander. No sarcasm, no defiance.

"Yes. That's why I'm sending _you._"

Hearing the stress on the last word, Shinn took off with a determined look on his face.

"Is he aware," Le Creuset approached his superior. "That setting off like that without your dismissal could get him reprimanded?"

"I believe so," Athrun answered. "But let him." _That should keep things quiet for awhile._

"Permission for this platoon to speak, Commander," Dearka requested.

"Granted."

"Commander, the idea of sending Ensign Asuka to Lunius as a messenger was certainly just," Heine started. "But wasn't sending him alone…"

"Suicidal?" Athrun anticipated. "Yes, to a certain extent."

"To a certain extent?" Yzak remarked. "He'd die the moment he gets caught!"

"He's not as invincible as he claims to be," Dearka reinforced Yzak's point. "I think that is something you already know."

"Of course, he isn't," Athrun responded. "And I don't think Lunian torture will kill him."

"But a spamlock will definitely…" his own thoughts cut Yzak. "Wait, since when did Lunius have its own spamlocks and hadeswallows?"

Le Creuset, who was now riding alongside the Commander, whispered teasingly, "That was very cruel of you, Commander."

Athrun's lips formed a smirk. If Shinn's defiance was reserved only for Athrun, Athrun's mischief was reserved only for Shinn.

"You see colleagues," Le Creuset started to explain. "Lunius does not have such devices. Those, and a number of other torture devices are found only in Vierna."

o+

They rode on quietly as Athrun gave them further instructions. Zaft was to set base camp one mile from Lunius, the bigger of the two cities. With Lunius defeated, Miyercuria was surely to follow. They would give Lunius no time to assemble its army, knowing that Miyercuria has neither the tools nor the manpower to defeat them. As soon as Shinn got back, the attack would commence.

"The warning, this time, would prove little use. We're sending them the message just in case they aren't as unyielding as we thought they'd be. Most likely, we will launch the attack against Lunius in two days."

"Right after we set foot on their sands?" Yzak inquired.

"Yes. By then, Ensign Asuka should have been back with their response. The army's not greater than 7, 000; we won't need much. Reserve a third of your divisions for Miyercuria."

"Is that enough Commander? How are we so sure about their army's population?"

"Lunius and Miyercuria have been at war since the two cities were conceived," Athrun justified. "Full force, quite recently. Zaft's king sent envoys to watch the developments."

"And the estimates sum up to no greater than 7, 000 for Lunius?" Le Creuset intervened.

"Yes, and not more than 5, 000 for Miyercuria. A great deal of their armies have been wiped out throughout their battles."

"Would they call for aid?"

"No," Athrun told Le Creuset bluntly. "Besides, if anyone of them asked for aid, it'd never make it in two days."

"Would they consider an alliance?"

"No, I think we've dealt with this before." (Note: See chap 6 if you can't remember why)

"Let's say they decided to change their minds?" Le Creuset's voice was low, cunning and piercing to Athrun's ears. "We _are_ leaving one third of the army behind. They might choose to attack base camp while we decimate their fortresses."

"And let their city be decimated by our troops?" Athrun challenged him.

"No doubt their kings are proud," the old lieutenant's voice was cool as ever. "But unlike in Heliopolis, common sense is not one of their scant faculties. Victory will always be priority. Details of the Heliopolian siege would have reached them by now. They know we never included civilians in the casualty list."

Of all his lieutenants, Le Creuset was the one he had doubts with. He was efficient and experienced, but his mysterious ways often incited suspicion. Athrun knew little of the lieutenant's past, his affairs, his connections with that bastard…

But what mattered was that he was useful. His age and his military resume gave him the edge over his colleagues, even his own Commander.

_Someone almost as smart as Father. I'm glad he's on our side. _

"My say," Le Creuset continued. "Is that a fraction of their forces will attack base camp while we concentrate on the rest of them. If they combine their forces, they might just be able to pull it off."

This made Athrun set aside a few seconds to think. His contemplative mood amused Le Creuset, whose wily smile seemed to reflect a hundred motives, all masking the true one…

Which was why he tried to put on a more austere countenance when he faced the Commander, who seemed to be uncomfortable with his smiling ways.

"Of course, Commander, this is just a possibility. The final say will always be yours."

"No, you're right. It was quite naïve for me to think that such a strategy would work. Forget what I said. I'll need time to think about this. Go back to your posts for now and wait for further instructions. You're dismissed."

The four lieutenants, resuming their gallop back to the ranks, nodded in abeyance. As soon as his back was turned, Le Creuset drew a sinister smile—something he did quite often.

_You couldn't have been more precise_, Commander, he thought. _You _are_ naïve_.

oooooo

Hehe, I _love _making Shinn look stupid. Sometimes, the bratty kids just need a good spanking, so Shinn fans, do not sue me. Hope this would invite more reviews than the last one did (I am never doing an asucaga-free chap ever again!—writes this line on a blackboard for 500 times). Thanks, as always, to everyone who read and/or reviewed. See ya people.


	13. Hisstory

Ok. Guys this is a long chap. And I mean long. So I will make a very short intro. The title, _His-story_, comes from a pun one of my high school teachers gave me. Had to disclaim that. BTW, feminist and machismo ideas in this one, so you decide. Are men better than women? Why?

PS last time, I said I would never be making an asucaga-free chap. Do not confuse with asucaga fluff-free chap, because I have to be selective on where and when it goes. Don't want things to get too fluffy, because trust me, this fic won't be as good as it is if I did. But don't worry, this chap is VERY FLUFFY, by my standards, anyway.

Disclaimer: The author of this fic does not own gundam seed/destiny, or its characters, because if I claimed I did, would delete my story—wouldn't it?—and the copyright people will sue me. Any similarities from other fics are purely coincidental, and so are any allusions to real events, places and people.

oooooo

Chapter 13: His-story

Between the cities of Heliopolis and Lunius, most that stood was a vast expanse of sand. The only obstructions found in this plain were a few hills, and a huge rock hill range creating a quarter-mile wall against the western, northern and southern sides of the city. From a bird's eye view, the hills formed an arch, where several hills converged into a spacious mound of sand. This mountain of hill, where the other hills converged into, was called Archer's Rock—named after the Lunian archers who assumed their positions at its peak whenever defending their city from enemy attack. Two days had passed since Zaft's army left for Lunius. The eve before battle.

And Yzak, as usual, was busy ranting.

"What on earth is the Commander thinking?"

He had good reason to rant this time. The hill was of no use in concealing their presence; it stood far shorter than Lunius' highest tower, allowing a watcher to keep an eye on them.

"Not to mention they'd be blind if they hadn't spotted an army this big," Dearka agreed as he came out of his tent, carrying his coat. "Goodness, it is cold out here."

"See? He is not making sense this time. And let me point out…"

As the two lieutenants walked up to the chef's quarters, they eyed the rock face, stretching across their full horizon and blocking any view of the cities behind it. On the slopes of the hill were mounted stone slabs, each big enough to hide a small platoon. In the past, these hills were used as a fortress for Lunius, even before Miyercuria's defection.

"It's so easy for the Lunians to attack us from those rocks," Yzak whispered, "especially while we slumber."

Dearka could only nod. He couldn't believe it either when Athrun called for a halt as soon as Shinn arrived.

"Then he ordered us to set up base camp," Dearka contemplated as the young lady chef he endeared gave him his serving of beef stew. The lady was surprised; Dearka would always give her a compliment for the food, among other things he complimented her for.

_Of all places. This spot is perfect for an ambush. _

"That hill was modified to initiate ambush attacks against advancing enemy forces. We're sleeping right in front of it," Yzak whispered angrily. "Athrun isn't _this _stupid. What do you think he has in mind?"

"I don't know," Dearka answered, sitting down in a log beside the grand bonfire built by the cavaliers. "Why don't we ask him?"

"That's the point!" Yzak was getting upset. "He's not telling us! We're supposed to be the first people to know. There must be something he knows that we don't."

"There are a lot of things he knows, and he won't be telling them to anyone anytime soon."

Heine's bowl was different from everyone else's.

"Vegetable stew? How can you live with that?" Dearka snorted.

"I'm a dedicated vegetarian," Heine replied, sitting with his two friends. "Athrun's speaking with Lt. Le Creuset as we speak."

"It's unfair."

Putting down his half-finished bowl, Yzak took out a handkerchief to wipe his mouth. "_We_ should be the first to know."

Years of being with these two younger chaps helped Heine and Dearka understand how they felt in different situations, particularly Yzak, who was definitely the more expressive one. They have known each other for the longest time, way back to the years when Yzak still challenged Athrun to mock sword fights and always lost, back to the days when Yzak challenged the prince to foot and horse races and always lost by a horse's stride, back to the days when the both of them started initiating in mock brawls…

And all of that was a _really_ long time ago. By now, it was only logical that Dearka and Heine, being the older, supposedly more experienced 'sources of wisdom' for their younger friends, should have known how to deal with them.

"Look, I know you're quite jealous about Athrun always consulting with Le Creuset before he does with us, but consider Le Creuset's experience in war. Let's trust the both of them know what they're doing."

Dearka had spoken in his most gentle, brotherly tone. A few moments of silence. Yzak stood up, placing his bowl were he had sat. Soon, Heine heard someone cracking his knuckles.

"Dearka, you should _not_ have said that."

"What did I say wrong?" Dearka asked bewildered.

Sighing, Heine cursed Dearka for never learning from his mistakes.

"I am NOT jealous, Sir Elsman," Yzak muttered, facing them angrily. "I hope your muscles don't hurt today. I challenge you to a brawl."

o+

While all this conspired behind the Commander's back, three young women gulped down their servings of beef stew, sitting on a 6-foot pile of logs, elevated from the rest of the bonfire diners.

"He's definitely got his work cut out for him," Cagalli remarked after hearing that Shinn had just gotten back earlier in the afternoon.

"You don't know half the story," Luna giggled. " It's his fault anyway, he's the one putting up fights with the Commander."

"He dares to argue with his superior?"

"Yes, but he's never been reprimanded for his actions. You should see them in mock brawls."

"Mock what?"

"Mock brawls," Luna reiterated, taking a piece of bread and munching on its golden crust. "During some of the bonfires—like this one—superiors give their subordinates a chance to challenge them to a brawl."

"But don't they get…"

"Hurt? Of course they do. But it's usually subordinates that end up hurt. The lieutenants and the Commander have always had the upper hand. The story isn't the same for the rest of the upper ranks, though."

"There was one time," Meyrin started, as she sipped a spoonful of the luscious soup, "when Captain Almalfi sprained his ankle in a brawl with one of the ensigns. He wasn't able to join the battle that followed the next day. I think the ensign that broke his ankle was…"

"Let me guess, Shinn?"

"How did you know?"

"It makes sense," Cagalli figured. "He doesn't seem to like superiors very much."

"Not really," Luna defended. "He's reluctant when it comes to those little errands the Commander likes to send him to, but it doesn't mean he hates all his superiors. I think he hates the Commander, though."

"Why?"

"Beats me. He's not the type to tell."

"Maybe because he's never beaten the Commander in mock brawling?" Meyrin interrupted.

_Now that she's mentioned him…_ Cagalli thought this would be perfect timing to find out some things about Zaft's Commander. _Make sure your first questions do not incite suspicion. _

"Say, Meyrin, has the Commander ever been beaten in mock brawls?"

"Huh?" the question took Meyrin by surprise. "Well, none that I know of…"

Her voice twitched, her face growing a slight tint of red.

_Is it the bonfire's light reflecting off her face, or is she blushing again?_

Cagalli would have shrugged off the thought, but Luna's mischievous, _sisterly _smile was a hint Cagalli couldn't miss.

"Oh, I get it."

"G… get what?" Meyrin stammered.

"I know who I remind you of," Cagalli's voice was full of mischief as she leaned closer to the younger girl.

"Wha… who…"

"I get it. You've been harboring a crush on the Commander, haven't you?"

"Wh… what? But I'm… I'm… not! I… I'm…" Meyrin's hands flew to the air, hitting Cagalli on the face.

"Ouch! That hurt, you know."

"I… I'm sorry, now where were we? Oh yes, mock brawls!" the younger girl struggled to find a way out of this conversation. All the while Luna kept giggling, Meyrin's frown finally getting her to stop.

"I'm sorry, Meyrin, it's just that… well, it's alright to have feelings for him."

"But… I… I…"

"It's alright," Cagalli assured Meyrin, patting her on the back. "It's normal to admire someone."

"That, my dear," Luna drew closer to Cagalli, the better for her to hear Luna's softened whisper, "is an understatement."

"Why is that?"

"You have no idea. You should have seen how many hearts he's broken back home."

"So I deem he's a playboy." _Figures, a lot of military men are._

"Not quite. He's actually the opposite."

"Excuse me? I think I missed something."

"You see, he never plays with women."

"There's nothing wrong with that. It's the mark of a true gentleman."

"That's the problem! He doesn't even entertain them."

"I don't see the problem."

"He's broken a lot of hearts that way, including Meyrin's. When she told me about it, he broke my heart, too."

o+

Looking up the huge oak doors that opened to the prince's chamber, Meyrin felt a bump on her throat as she fingered the stash of medical reports Luna had told her to deliver. She gulped again, knowing it was a chance of a lifetime.

_This is it… this is really it…_ she pondered. _This is the prince's chamber. I'm really going to be knocking on the doors…_

She has been holding an admiration for the young prince for quite some time now—or maybe something more than admiration.

The oak doors felt good under her dainty appendages. Her fingers grasped the handle, which she beat on the door twice.

"Come in."

His voice was so stoic, so clear, so…

_Enchanting._

Opening the door, she found Prince Athrun on his desk, his back hunched a few meters against the door.

_He seems busy. _

"Uhm… your Highness, I was requested to deliver these documents to you. They're the…"

"Supply logistics?"

"Uhm… no," Meyrin answered, slightly disappointed that the prince seemed to be expecting someone else. "They're the medical reports. My sister… er… Dr. Hawke asked me to deliver them."

"Oh, Doctor Hawke," the prince still kept his pen on paper, scribbling. "Oh yes, I was expecting that, too. Just put them on the desk beside the door. Thank you."

Meyrin did as she was told. Silently, she closed the door.

He didn't even turn around to face her.

A few minutes later, a sharp giggle burst from the hallways. This startled Athrun from his work, but being the busybody he was, he shrugged it off and resumed to his papers.

"Yes, I did it! I finally talked to him!"

Since then, Luna had been asking Meyrin to do a number of deliveries for her, most of which for the prince. As her sister had noticed, Meyrin seemed quite happy—overjoyed, even.

One day, Meyrin was sent for another delivery. Happily accepting the task, she skipped playfully across the hallways, humming a song in her head.

She knocked, the sound a sweet reverberation, reminding her that she was to see the prince up close again.

"Enter."

He was sitting in the same spot he always did. But this time, he put his pen down, and crossed his fingers under his chin. Then he slouched on his seat, revealing a small face mirror to Meyrin's view. It was right on his desk, positioned so that he could see whoever was at the door.

_All this time, he's been looking at me, _Meyrin blushed with the thought.

"Don't think of me rudely, young Miss, but…"

_Oh my God, he's talking to me._

"I can't help noticing…"

_Please, tell me, my Prince, the words I long to hear…_

"Why is it that you blush so often when you're around me?"

Her daydream froze on its tracks, ran straight for Meyrin, and broke her into bits.

"It's slightly disturbing, and…"

_Disturbing?_

"And I'm not sure if I'm making you feel sick…"

_Sick?_

"But if there's anyway I can help you…" the prince said as he turned to face the girl.

At the sight of the prince's visage, Meyrin turned beet red. Her heart did mad thumps, her mind rotated full circle, her stomach churned butterflies.

To Athrun's surprise, Meyrin burst into tears.

"I… I'm so sorry, Prince Athrun… The… the medical reports are on the desk… as you always wanted them…" she said between sobs. "W… well… have a nice day, Prince. Bye!"

She shut the door before he could even react. Out of nowhere, a shrill outburst of tears echoed in the hallway.

"Why must I always be like this?"

The voice was distraught and confused, followed by the sound of a mad dash. Athrun scratched his head, unsure if he should follow the girl and ask her what was wrong.

_What was _that_ about?_

He resumed to the sheets on his desk, deciding it was best to leave her alone.

o+

Her heart was replete with a slush of anger, confusion, and embarrassment. This made her flush even more. She could see her sister, trying to keep herself from falling off their elevated seat as she recanted that most embarrassing moment, and her friend trying to hold back the laughter herself. She could only take so much.

"That's it."

To the surprise of her two companions, Meyrin jumped off the logs. It was bad enough that they had to say it out loud, but _he_ just had to be there, of all places.

"Lunamaria Hawke," Meyrin cried. "How dare you!"

With that, she turned violently back to the medical quarters, bumping against two soldiers who both exchanged puzzled looks with each other.

They didn't even have to look at her.

"What are _you_ looking at?" she said sharply, taking off at full speed.

"Now, why on earth…" Luna wondered about her sister's rash actions. "This isn't the first time I've done this, and she's never reacted that way…" She realized Meyrin seemed to have been taking side-glances to her right side all this time. After doing the same, she gasped, finding out the cause for Meyrin's outburst. Frantically, she turned to Cagalli, sifting through a ream of papers from her bag.

Panicked, she stuttered, "Ca… Cagalli, do me a favor… and hand these to the Commander. They're the medical reports for this week. Thanks!"

Luna jumped off the logs, almost throwing Cagalli off balance, and ran after Meyrin.

"Meyrin, I'm sorry! Wait up, please!"

Now Cagalli was completely lost. Then she realized what Luna had asked her to do.

"Wait, I don't know where the Commander is!"

A couple of feet below her, she heard the scruffy sound of someone scratching his head. Looking down, Cagalli discovered the cause of all the fuss.

"So that's what it was about," Athrun remarked, holding his beef stew in one hand and scratching his head with the other. "Maybe I should be having those," he continued, pointing at the sheets in Cagalli's hands.

o+

Athrun took his seat on the log set lowest—the logs were arranged so that one may make a stair out of them. He began to eat as he read the sheets he placed flimsily on his lap. He raised them, a quizzical look on his face, "Strange, I've read these before."

"Luna was caught unprepared," Cagalli broke. _She probably couldn't think of a better alibi._

She had just finished her meal and was now wiping her lips. Athrun turned his head to face her as she continued.

"Were you listening?"

_It's strange how she can gather the nerve to speak so bluntly to me,_ he thought. "Heard everything."

"You were eavesdropping. That's impolite."

One could see the slight tension on his brow. "Talking about someone behind his back isn't exactly polite, either."

To this, Cagalli could only give a huff of resentment. Luna _was_ talking behind the Commander's back. Not finding the necessity to speak anymore, Cagalli decided to observe Zaft's base camp during dining hours.

In one word, Zaft's base camp can be described as—what else—big. It stretched at least half a mile across the desert plain, patches of black on the golden sheet of sand. Base camp was set up to form a squared cluster, grouped into smaller clusters, each with one platoon residing for the night. In between each assemblage of tents, dirt roads were left unobstructed, walking paths for the men to use for themselves, but more specifically, for the horses. Each walking path was the width of three tents—plenty of space to walk on—and even bigger walking paths demarcated the bordering tents of each division. These paths made base camp look live a giant woven piece of tapestry, gold interlaced black in alternating fashion. Every 20 feet of base camp's borders, a small platoon of sentries was stationed to watch out for enemies, and to sound the alarm just in case of an ambush. This was how Zaft set up base camp every time.

Except for sentries, who kept watch and were brought food in the outposts, dining hours seemed to be the hour of repose in base camp. During dining hours, the men were allowed to eat, drink wine—with low alcohol content, of course—and bathe. Most of the men sat on long, rough logs—makeshift logs mostly rolled out from the desert's few forested lands. Dining hours, for Zaft soldiers, were synonymous to relaxation, rejuvenation, and a little bit of fun.

"You need to give everyone a break every once in a while."

It was the Commander. Cagalli's trail of thoughts were broken, retraced, and connected to his.

"I never thought you would initiate a conversation."

"I do, sometimes," Athrun noted, placing the bowl on the floor. "You mind if I sit up there? I'm looking for someone."

Cagalli moved left, letting Athrun sit beside her. She normally wasn't shy around men, be she usually wasn't this close to them, either.

o+

"Ready?" they heard Dearka shout.

"As ever! Be prepared, Sir Elsman, for tonight, I win," his opponent bragged, rubbing his palms with sand, a kind of ceremony before men went to battle. Both stripped topless, they assumed bent positions with their hands leaning on their thighs, supporting their weight on two feet set a couple of feet apart—ready to grapple at each other at a referee's signal.

Since opportunities to catch him in such favorable conditions were rare, Cagalli took the chance to examine Zaft's Commander physically. According to Zaft tradition, the king assumed the role of Commander-ship in the army, but as soon as he thinks his heir is ready, he can pass on the prestigious position to the king-to-be. That young man would have to uphold his predecessor's mighty image, the master of the world's most elite armed forces.

To which in history's point-of-view, Athrun had failed miserably. With so much history backing him up, Cagalli was expecting Zaft's Commander to be a fierce dominator in or out of battle. His image was impeccably petrifying when he wore his armor, but in dining hours like these, his skinniest soldier was more terrifying than he was.

That is if there was a skinnier soldier than him—save for the younger ones like Shinn, of course. Cagalli never took the time to notice, but the only thing that made Athrun look big was his armor, thick and heavyset, enclosing his incredibly—so incredible, it didn't seem possible—lean body.

_He's even slimmer than most women,_ Cagalli contemplated._ How on earth does he carry that armor? Hm, I don't want to admit or believe this, but it doesn't really take much effort to imagine him wearing a dress and…_

_Wait a minute, forget that, Cagalli! Just because he's a little skinny doesn't mean you can mistake her, I mean, him… for a woman! _she told herself, but surveying how gentle his features were—a smooth, unfurled forehead, an aquiline nose, and thin pale lips he fingered to warm them from the freezing night cold—she sighed, recalling that even if he _was _a military man, he was still Zaft's prince.

_Prince charming, eh? _she grumbled, remembering how Meyrin and so many other women of her country seemed to adore this man. _Fine, I wasn't expecting the Commander to look like a monster, but… I wasn't expecting him to be this good-looking either. _

Noticing the furtive stares Cagalli gave him, Athrun gave her a doubtful look, "What are you staring at?"

_How rude_, Cagalli thought. She didn't mind, but it just seemed so out-of-place of his princely features. Most princes would welcome a lady's furtive, secretive stares, especially hers—even if they actually meant to express the disgust she so often felt for meticulous, vain, _effeminate_ men...

Who, in their wildest dreams, would never find themselves wearing rough, baggy, sackcloth peasant clothes that they would consider rags. Not Athrun, though.

_It's the same kind of clothes most of the army wears… and come to think of it, I've never seen him wear anything in silk or satin like some of the other nobles do. Shouldn't he have more comfortable clothes at home? _

He yawned; the hour was getting late. With drowsy eyes, he stretched his cranking back, relieving it momentarily from its hunched position. Hanging his body in an inverted arch, he stretched sideways, trying to wake himself up. Then he bent his back further backwards, so low it almost threw the both of them off balance. Hunching back to his original position and noticing how Cagalli was struggling not to fall off, he apologized, "Sorry. My clumsiness."

"Be careful!" she said angrily. However, she calmed down quickly after realizing something. Athrun wasn't that slim, what made him look so skinny were his baggy clothes. The shirt he wore had both sleeves torn off, revealing a pair of toned arms skilled in combat, definitely trained under demanding conditions. And who would say the rest of his body wasn't trained that way?

_Rub that thought out, Cagalli,_ she reminded herself furiously. _He's good looking, fine. He's well-built, fine. Typical. Anything else?_

Hunching in his seated position, Athrun held a water bottle in one hand, taking big gulps of water every now and then, and wiping the water left on his lips with his bare arm. Afterwards, he released a big yawn, lazily forgetting to cover his mouth.

It seemed so crude of a prince of his upbringing. Again, Cagalli didn't mind a little crudeness, but expecting etiquette to be instinctual in people like him, this came as a surprise.

_This is supposed to be a prince?_ she thought_. It's easier to picture him in the corn fields than in the king's court._

Noticing that Cagalli was still staring at him, Athrun realized he wasn't being too polite. "Oh, my apologies. I seemed to have lost sense that I was with a lady."

"No, it's fine. It doesn't bother me," she lied. No matter where they came from, Zaft's gentry followed a universal rule when dealing with women.

"My etiquette dictates me to be as prim and proper in front of women as I can. That is our rule."

Cagalli could not hold back her giggles. As of the moment, it was hard to grasp that this was the same man she mistook for the devil in Heliopolis. Now he seemed more of his years, a young man just come of age to explore himself, his world, and the people around him—a youthful, carefree spirit just letting time relax his burning muscles out of a hard day's work. He kept his reservations, knowing he must always put up a leader's countenance. But in these hours, he sat comfortably on his log, side by side with one of the most beautiful ladies in royalty, watching amusedly at his two friends.

She was even more surprised to see him giggle.

"Heh, Dearka never learns. I wonder who Yzak got mad at this time."

"Any guesses?" Cagalli broke, hoping to initiate a conversation. _This is my chance to get something out of him!_

"Oh?" he had forgotten—again—that someone was listening, and he felt slightly embarrassed by his childish behavior.

_So what? She's not like the king's court, always watching my every move, saying I do things in the way all good princes do. My, I hate etiquette. Stupid, trivial, gestures of pretense. How annoying. I'm not in the king's court; I'm with the army. They don't mind me being a little uncivilized. It's good to be crude every once in a while. And I'm sure she wouldn't mind either. _

He began to think, scanning his memory for faces. "Too many to tell, actually. But to summarize, Yzak hates it when Dearka flirts with women."

_There's something Yzak and I agree on,_ he added as a side thought.

"I see, it seems that Zaft has a tradition of putting women in high regard," Cagalli concluded.

"Yes."

"Strange, you weren't so polite to my friend."

"Really?" Athrun wondered if he had ever wronged a lady at any point in recent memory, recalling none.

"The girl I was talking to earlier. Meyrin."

"Meyrin? I'm not sure if I know her…"

"Dr. Hawke's sister?" she reminded him crossly.

"Dr. Hawke has a sister?"

"You don't know?" she yelped in disbelief.

He paused for a few seconds, thinking. "Oh, I remember. The girl who used to send me the medical reports in my room last year. What did I do to her?"

The question was so sincere, it was hilarious. She couldn't blame him. _Maybe he's always thinking about a lot of things. _

"But it's still unbelievable how insensitive you can get!"

_She's laughing at me,_ Athrun thought, puzzled, watching as Cagalli tried to get a hold of herself. _I don't get it._

"I didn't know alright?"

Cagalli stopped laughing, knowing this was getting to be embarrassing.

"So I didn't know I hurt her feelings. I guess I apologize for that. I'm not very good in dealing with women."

Thinking Athrun had had enough, Cagalli's easy smile did not lift from her face, her eyes watching amusedly as the two lieutenants braced themselves before battle.

o+

In this face-off of sheer strength, it seemed that the larger fellow would win as the two drilled into each other's shoulders with their hands. In this case, Dearka was obviously exerting less effort than Yzak.

"This is not the first time we have faced, and I am surprised you take me ever so lightly," Yzak snorted, panting.

"Do not accuse me of such negligence, my friend," Dearka replied. "Maybe it is you who takes me less than my worth."

"Let's see about that."

Just to prove his opponent wrong, Yzak freed one hand from Dearka's shoulder, sneaked it into a fist and aimed for a blow to Dearka's gut. Flesh met flesh, only that it wasn't in the way Yzak had expected it to hit, nor did it produce the effect he had hoped it would.

"Told you not to underestimate me," Dearka snickered, his right arm blocking the hit. "Seems like you'll never…"

"The punch wasn't successful, so I tried another body part."

Yzak took the opportunity Dearka unknowingly gave him to sink his knee to where his buckle met Dearka's skin. Hitting below the belt wasn't allowed in mock brawls. The pain, nonetheless, was just as bad.

"You talk too much." Yzak let go of his opponent, stepping a few feet back. Now they were on opposite sides of the ring again. "Now take me seriously!"

He tried smiling through the torment, but deep inside, it hurt badly.

_You'll pay for this, Yzak. _

"Fine. You're on!"

o+

"The idea is to push your opponent out of the circle outlined in the sand," Athrun explained as they watched the two lieutenants fight it out. Yzak almost landed a good right fist to Dearka's cheek, but Dearka was able to evade, moving closer to Yzak, and landing a good punch to his midsection. Yzak was pushed backwards, the soles of his feet touching the cord that marked the circle.

"That was a close one. As soon as a part of your body—even the hair counts—touches the soil outside the ring, you lose."

Cagalli could only watch in awe as the two men displayed their expertise in hand-to-hand combat. The fight had been going on for at least ten minutes, the two men's foreheads teeming with sweat. Yzak panted more heavily than Dearka, but Dearka still took his moves warily.

Her eyes remained glued to the bout, following its every twist and turn.

"I deem this is not the first time you've seen one of these," Athrun interrupted, his own eyes not leaving the fight. One lapse in attention, and the spectator may suddenly realize that the bout had already reached a conclusion without him noticing.

"Of course it isn't," Cagalli could remember the first time she saw a sparing session between her brother and Lt. La Flaga—it did resemble a mock brawl, though it was more commonly known as…

"Sparing," she concluded. "I've been acquainted with a lot of its kind. Your version of it is a little more brutal than what I'd normally find back home. Most sparing sessions involve only one combat discipline, while your brawlers can use any style they want. That means there aren't too many rules to go by with, save for two."

"Hit, and try not to get hit."

"And a number of combat ethics… but that's it. Free form fighting can get out of hand quite often. I'm not surprised if some of the participants happen to break something along the way. Nothing too serious, hopefully."

"Hm…"

He eyed her furtively. One thing that people can note about Athrun was that he didn't like looking at women in the eye, and all this time sitting beside her, Athrun had kept his eyes stuck to his two friends.

"Cagalli, isn't it?"

Hey, he remembers my name… 

She spoke of these things frankly, but in her voice lingered a faint trace of anxiety. Though she had frequented the sparing rings herself, Zaft's mock brawls seemed to be more violent and more unpredictable, where the participants were more prone to serious injury.

"That's what I'm watching out for. Besides, all mock brawls involve a high-ranking official on one side. It's his job to make sure the fight doesn't get out of hand." The lady seemed well versed in these conversations, and Athrun hadn't met many women accustomed to this kind of…

"So this is your version of entertainment?"

The last word pricked him. This was more than entertainment.

"It's not entertainment. It's motivation."

Mock brawls were never fought solely for personal reasons.

"Mock brawls are supposed to show how able the superiors are," Athrun defended, as Yzak threw a jab that finally hit his adversary. Dearka did not bleed, but the hit caused him to fall to one knee.

"We do this for two reasons. One is to urge the soldiers to train themselves harder, so that they would deserve to fight alongside their leader. The second is to gather respect. We find that proving one's worth is important, no, _essential_ to a superior. He must remind his men that he was assigned to his position for a good reason. It doesn't matter who wins. What matters more is that both sides were able to show his men what he's capable of."

Tinkling giggles escaped her lips, entertained by the Commander's defensive mood. It was interesting how someone with such a cold, unemotional image could be willing to talk to anyone in this way.

_Had we been elsewhere, I would have introduced you to Kira and Father. They would love to have conversations with you_, she thought. Athrun seemed so passionate when it came to Zaft's tradition and national pride; becoming of a prince, who since childhood was brought up behind the nation's proud walls.

"Look, I didn't mean what I said," Cagalli apologized. "I see your point. It's a brusque way of motivating your men, but it's effective. Not to mention…"

"What?"

"Oh, never mind," Cagalli chose to conceal that afterthought. If anything good came out of all this brawling, it was that she could observe how well Zaft fighters fought.

I should have expected these men to fare well… damn, they're good… she thought, as the two men both evaded succeeding strikes from each other, both releasing an attack for the other's vulnerable part, both missing, both aiming another punch, both missing again, all in breakneck speed. Kira won't be having victory the easy way… 

"Are they Zaft's best fighters?"

Athrun had always been wary of these kinds of questions. They were the types asked by spies.

But Cagalli wasn't a spy when he first met her, and it hasn't hit him that now she was. Therefore, he took her questions as curiosity.

"Two of the best," he answered. "That's obvious."

_Exactly, _she muttered inwardly. _Tell me something I don't know…_ _If that won't work, let's try another one._

"What would the soldiers do after this?"

Now there was a less suspicious question.

"They get to watch another fight."

"Really? Whose fight?"

Cagalli was beginning to look like a curious child someone took to the carnival for the first time.

_This is amusing,_ Athrun thought.

"Depends on who they want."

Listening intently, she clapped inwardly, knowing her plan worked.

"A mock brawl starts a series of mock brawls… a series of three, actually. At this rate, I'd say a subordinate would come up and challenge a superior of his choice. That superior has no choice but to accept."

"So that means someone will be fighting after this…" Thinking of another good question, it hit her. "Will you be fighting?"

He would have said he wasn't in the mood to fight, but a sharp glare zeroing in on him told Athrun it was inevitable. "Something tells me I might be."

Neglecting to notice his tensed brow, Cagalli continued to ask, "I see, say, has anyone ever beaten you in any one of these brawls?"

Her questions were getting aggressive, but again, Athrun took it as curiosity. "Let me see," he paused to think, "No, never been beaten."

"Not once?"

"Not ever."

"Not even by your father?"

"Oh yes, my father did beat me…" Athrun recalled, his eyes lofting to the horizon, out of focus from the bout at hand. "Once."

"Just once?"

"We only fought once," he reminded himself of one of the few moments in recent memory his father was willing to be that close to him. "That was a long time ago, around five years. We used to brawl a lot when I was a kid, but those weren't really mock brawls—they didn't have an audience like this. The last one we fought was."

o+

It happened the year before his mother died. That day, he challenged Zaft's king to a mock brawl. All he could remember—all he chose to remember—were his father's words.

"Even if you have to learn things the hard way, you have to learn. This is for your own good, Commander."

Then his father lifted him by the clothes on his chest and the waistline of his trousers, raised the lad above his head, and threw him out of the ring.

o+

"When was the last time Father called me his son, and when was the last time I called him Father?"

This melancholic tone touched Cagalli. But to cheer up the depressing aura…

"Hm, just now? You just called him 'Father', you know?"

"Oh, what? Sorry, I dozed off," he apologized, resuming his normal rigor, as if his father swooped down and sent a bolt up his spine, telling him to act properly.

_Perhaps I should lighten the mood—I guess Zaft's king is so uptight, the mere mention of his name causes a tension in the air. _

"Has anyone beaten you after him?"

"No," he answered plainly. The brawl was reaching a close. Yzak was finally getting the upper hand.

"As in no one?"

"Absolutely, not even my trainers could. Not to boast, of course."

_You just did,_ she sighed. Then a brilliant question hit her.

"Say…"

Athrun put forth his water bottle, taking large gulps out of it.

"You think I can beat you?"

A big lump of water getting caught in his throat, causing him to gag, meant the question _was_ brilliant.

"What?" he asked dumbfound, drinking more water to push down the water that got caught in his throat.

"I was asking you an honest question. Do you think I can beat you?"

"What makes you think you can?"

"And what makes you think I can't?"

"You're a woman, that's why," he reasoned, still unbelieving someone could ask him that. "That's like asking if women could join the army in battle."

"Let me remind you," Cagalli said as-a-matter-of-factly, "that some societies allow women ranks in the military. Martius is an example."

"Not in Zaft. It's just hard for me to imagine how…"

"How?"

"How a woman can last," he retorted, growing slightly annoyed. "I don't know about other armies, but a woman can never be a Zaft soldier."

"How narrow-minded."

"Sounds that way to a woman like you, but if you were me, you'd be singing a different tune."

There were three reasons to consider. Put together, they made a good point.

"First, we hold everything in common. And when I say everything, I mean _everything_. Food, drink, tents, baths…"

The last one sounded uncomfortable to Cagalli. Noticing this, Athrun continued. "See? Some things women can't hold common with men. Noble or peasant, man or woman—there will be no exception. That is our rule."

"Then set something aside for women," she rebutted. "A separate bathing area?"

"Highly impractical," he answered speedily. "It takes up space, not to mention it defeats the purpose. The point of holding things in common is to establish camaraderie."

"That isn't the only way!"

"It's the _best_ way, and we won't settle for second best. Second point, having women in base camp is distracting."

"You have female doctors…"

"Doctors can afford to live in separate, demarcated quarters. They don't have to be that close to the soldiers; they do not go to battle with them and therefore do not need to establish a strong sense of bonding with them. Soldiers need to do that _with each other_. We cannot have a woman impregnated in the middle of war."

"Shouldn't your men practice self control? It's part of training, right?"

Her voice was getting excessively loud. Luckily, most of the men were on the other side of the bonfire, where the fight had been ensuing.

"Men will be men," Athrun continued. "Call it primordial instinct. We can't have that here; it destroys discipline. Third and most importantly…"

It was an age-old rule of society. History has driven the point over and over again.

_His story,_ that is.

"Women can never match men in battle."

It was a slap in the face for all the women in the world—a flagging of male dominance, the sexist notion of gender inequity. Cagalli would not take this sitting down.

"Would you be saying that if you met a woman as good as you in battle?"

The night's first mock brawl had reached a conclusion. There stood outside of the ring, one of his feet only inches past the mark, was Dearka with a good sport's grin. Apparently, he just lost his balance, helping Yzak push him out of the ring.

Rubbing his hands to warm them from the cold, Athrun knew it'd be his turn soon. From his position, he could see a certain familiar ensign emerging from the crowd.

"Commander, your turn to tango. With all due respect," this time, Shinn's tone was void of sarcasm. It was eager, like a beast just waiting to be unleashed. "I challenge you to a brawl."

All eyes revolved to where Shinn's stare was directed. Jumping off the pile of logs he was sitting on, Athrun motioned to finish his little debate with Cagalli.

"Again, I'll make this clear. If we send women to war, they'll be the first ones the enemy would target. The chances of a woman winning a fight are smaller than a man's is. We cannot settle for second best. And unfortunately…"

His back turned, he made his way to the ring.

"Women may have the upper hand in some things, but in battle, they will always be second to men."

A surging resentment within her, Cagalli watched as Athrun took his position opposite of Shinn's, preparing to fight.

Oooooo

Told you it was long. Anyway, thanks to all who've read this, and all who've reviewed. Read and review please, I won't deny that I love those reviews. See ya people.


	14. Tempering Temper

Hm, hey. Sorry it took me two weeks, exams are in my midst, and they are driving me to the brink of insanity. But don't worry, I'm still normal, and capable of writing more chaps. So yeah, make me more happy by sending more reviews. They WILL keep me from sinking into insanity. Thanks in advance.

Ok, I split this part into two chaps, because the original got too long. The thing with this chap is that it is heavily descriptive, so a too-lengthy chap would get boring. Besides, I like cliffies (evil grin --). I suggest you pack up on your imaginative side, because, yes, there are fight scenes in this chap. I hope the descriptions turn out effective. Experimented on this kind of writing, so please tell me what you think. Thanks a bunchies and hopefully, enjoy :)

Disclaimer: The author of this fic does not own gundam seed/destiny, or its characters, because if I claimed I did, would delete my story—wouldn't it?—and the copyright people will sue me. Any similarities from other fics are purely coincidental, and so are any allusions to real events, places and people.

oooooo

Chapter 14: Tempering Temper

Eyeing the Commander's distancing figure as it paced across the golden sands whose hue were intensified by the glowing flames, Cagalli could not suppress her surging indignation. It proved just how patriarchal Zaft's society was, a society founded, raised, and perpetuated by men. Women were notes on a sidebar, to be referred to every once in a while.

_I find it hard to imagine how women can stomach this oppression_, she thought. Though Orb didn't exactly encourage their women to join the military, Orb did not stop them from doing so. Orb used to believe in the same principles Zaft did when it came to women in war, but new ideas flooded in, placing women in equal footing with men.

With this in mind, Cagalli jumped off the logs and approached the arena.

_If he's going to say something like that in front of me, he had better be good. _

o+

Fierce blood red eyes locked into the Commander's figure as he approached his lieutenants' seat and placed on the empty space—probably reserved for him—some of his things, which included his water bottle, a pocket watch and two daggers stashed to a holster.

"Where have you been?" Yzak asked doubtfully.

"Didn't you see," Dearka began with a teasingly playful tone, "he was just spending some quality time with our good friend… what was her name?"

Apparently, Dearka had been taking a few side glances at the highest seat in camp. Athrun shook off the taunt and smiled, "Nice try, Dearka, but Cagalli and I were only having an intellectual conversation."

They kept their voices low, too soft for the others to hear. "Please, Athrun, be a man for once and try to make a move on a girl," Dearka continued as he watched Athrun strip his holster. "But you got her name. That's a start."

"Start for what?" Athrun questioned stiffly.

"Whatever men do to women that gratifies their pride as men."

_Men will be men. Call it primordial instinct_, Athrun reminded himself. Sarcastically, he said, "Lovely way to put it, Dearka. Play you games with women, but count me out. Such matters are just not my cup of tea. "

Perfectly timed to the Commander's departure was Cagalli's arrival. She had come for a better view of the fight—right in front row.

Not being able to resist the chance to speak to a beautiful lady, Dearka stood and gave Cagalli a small bow. This, unfortunately, did not go unnoticed by the surrounding soldiers, including Athrun, who, nevertheless, kept his head directed to Shinn.

"My Lady, it's rude to let one of your kind without a seat. Would you care to take mine?"

Cagalli threw a look on the log, then to the space occupied by Athrun's things.

"I appreciate it, Sir," Cagalli replied, uneasy with Dearka's smile. "But there's a blank seat right beside you. Maybe I can take that one instead."

Now, it was taboo for a gentleman not to offer his seat to a standing lady, but it was grave disrespect to offer the Commander's seat to someone else. For all his coquettish ways, this was a line Dearka was not willing to cross.

"I believe the seat has been taken," Cagalli assumed. "I'm fine standing up, thank you."

"No…I mean, it _is _impolite to leave a lady standing," Dearka stuttered, realizing the gravity of what he had almost done. "Please take my seat, I insist."

She took a small bow and took the spot beside Yzak, leaving Dearka to stand up. The nearby soldiers refrained from beginning a stir, but inwardly, they were thinking, _there, he's at it again._

"His weakness of women will get him in trouble eventually," Athrun grumbled softly.

"For once, I agree, Commander," Shinn responded.

"That was uncalled for, Ensign," Athrun recoiled, both of them assuming the first position the two lieutenants had earlier. He kept his stoic unemotional face he always did when he spoke to Shinn. "What makes you think you'll win this time?"

"I've picked up a couple of new tricks a few days ago," Shinn smirked, his arrogance perforating through the sheepish smile he tried to wear. "And you won't be able to throw me off the ring like you did last time."

At a colonel's signal, the two men closed in, grappling at each other, initiating the face-off.

"We'll see about that," Athrun muttered, gritting his teeth.

o+

It was as if all the elements had come together to play in this grandiose theatre roofed by nothing but the starry night—even nature's course receded to watch the continuation of a four-year strife between Shinn and his Commander. Their sinews moved to a beat, rhythmic, almost ecstatic, if one does not take a good look at their strained expressions. The wind beat their backs, ruffling their tousled hair, urging them to give it everything they've got. The fires glorified each strike, imprinting black, gaunt shadows on the aurous grains that flew, settled, then catapulted constantly in the air sliding on their feet. Each strike was like the beat of a drum, pulsing to the note of some divine conductor as it pounded on the crisp night air. No rants, no raves, no cheers came from the stupefied, silenced crowd—perhaps they thought it disrespectful to disturb this natural symphony's majesty.

At some point in the middle of this, Athrun aimed a sidekick to Shinn's waist, hoping to disable him. Shinn, a master of evasion, ducked, directing a sidekick to Athrun's feet. He made contact, causing Athrun to fall on one knee as Shinn rose from his squatted position to give him a hard punch to his gut.

To everyone's surprise, Shinn's plan worked.

The punch was hard and agonizing. Shinn let it sink in for a few seconds, until he finally let go. Athrun was now at the edge of the circle—one false step and he would lose. _A little more and I finally got him_, Shinn thought. The ensign hunched, positioned his elbow so that it aimed at the section he had just punched, ready to drive it in Athrun's pained ribs. For a second there, everyone thought Shinn would beat the Commander for the first time.

But everyone was wrong. Just before the ensign made contact, Athrun shifted to the left, causing Shinn's attack to meet nothing but air. Shinn had not expected this—he didn't mind falling out of the ring, if it meant Athrun would fall along with him. Unfortunately, there was nothing to meet his fall but the dusty earth of the South.

As Shinn's body slowly toppled out of the ring, Athrun turned, getting behind Shinn, grabbing his outstretched arm, then the other, and put these against Shinn's back. It spared Shinn the humiliation of falling prey to his own trick, but it didn't spare him the embarrassment of being choked to excruciation—Athrun leaned closer to Shinn's back, and sandwiched the ensign's head between his right forearm and shoulder, locking it firmly in his grip. Anyone could hear Shinn gag in Athrun's arm lock. The Commander turned so that his back faced Shinn's, and pulled—dragged would be a better word—Shinn a few steps away from the ring's boundaries, reaching a position he pleased: dead center of the ring. After one powerful vertical leap, Athrun bent his legs in mid-air, stretching the skin on Shinn's neck to its limits as he was dragged up in the air. The Commander fell perfectly flat on his bottom, sitting upright, with Shinn's head cocking against his superior's arm. The skin on his opponent's neck red from the brutal stretch, it could have been concluded Athrun had pulled apart Shinn's windpipe.

Luckily, Shinn was still gagging, which meant there was nothing to worry about. "Good thing you fell on your bottom, too," Athrun commented, tightening his arm lock on Shinn's neck by pulling the boy closer to him. Now it was Athrun's turn to be sarcastic. The arm choking his opponent lazily pulled Shinn closer—so close Shinn's face looked straight into Athrun's, the two faces only inches away from each other. The force, though minimal and slackly applied, took Shinn by surprise. It was painful, but what angered Shinn more was the smile on Athrun's face when he found Shinn's startled expression.

"You _really _want to kill me," Shinn struggled as he kept gagging. Athrun's grip could only get tighter. He could barely breathe with Athrun purposely trying to suffocate him.

"That doesn't sound like a bad idea. I've had it with haughty, argumentative subordinates…"

Shinn forced himself out of Athrun's grasp and stood up panting. "When are you going to take me seriously?"

The neck-to-neck fight between Shinn and the Commander had captivated everyone, including Cagalli. Their moves were exceptional, but more noticeable was something highly peculiar of someone in Athrun's position.

"He seems so relaxed," she thought out loud.

Indeed he was; in fact, this was his way of having fun. Shinn always thought this man had to get a psychiatrist. The blows the ensign dealt him must have hurt like hell, but for some reason, Athrun still had that soft easy smile on his face. It was as if the blows actually felt good.

It took a while before Athrun got up, "I _am _taking you seriously. If I don't, I'll lose."

_You're good, Ensign, and I intend to make you more useful to Zaft. _"At least I'm acknowledging how good you are."

Shinn supposed it was sarcasm. Now absolutely irate, he ran full speed at Athrun, and threw a punch that the superior caught with one of his hands. The battle had resumed.

_And the more times you fall, the stronger you get,_ Athrun smirked as he threw his own punches at Shinn.

o+

"You're attacks are fast, but you keep leaving yourself open for your opponent to attack. How many times do I have to tell you that?"

"Just shut up and fight!"

Shinn definitely needs to watch out for that mouth of his. What he didn't know—or maybe he just forgot—was that the more mad he was, the harder it was for him to concentrate, and the easier for Athrun to evade all the attacks he threw.

"Calm down, Ensign. You'll never hit me if you keep yap…"

Finally, out of the hundred or so strikes Shinn had delivered, he finally made contact with Athrun's cheek. Satisfied, he cried out, "Ha, you're the one who should stop yapping. Looks like you lost your concentration this time, Commander."

Or maybe not. Shinn's fist still stuck to his cheek, Athrun pulled it off violently, took hold of the ensign's two arms, and sunk his knee to Shinn's belly. Cagalli swore Shinn broke something inside. Wincing in pain, the ensign fell to his knees. The blow Athrun dealt was harder than what he'd usually give in most mock brawls, but he knew Shinn would be able to handle it like a full-blooded Zaft soldier. That said, Athrun was a little disappointed.

"Come on," Shinn strove to say, "that punch _must _have hurt somehow."

"Just because it hurts doesn't mean I'll just stand here and let you hit me again," answered his superior, the easy smile gone from his face. "Don't be so happy about a little punch. Overconfidence is your biggest flaw, and that is something that might get you killed in battle. You've been in the army for quite some time now, and you still don't understand."

"Shut up!"

The young ensign had never beaten Zaft's prince in any fight, but he didn't hate him for that. His flat way of saying things, his unmoving stare, his unwavering austerity—these were just some of the things Shinn hated about the Commander. No matter what he did, Shinn never could cause a ripple in that man's countenance and that gave Shinn the feeling that Athrun Zala was looking down on him.

"The problem with you is that, in all our fights, you can't control that temper of yours."

"I am perfectly in control of myself!"

"Then why are you so reckless?"

Though his mouth was shut, Shinn's lips quivered rapidly, as if it took all his strength to control them from blowing up.

"I'll give you a minute," Athrun paused. "Compose yourself. Then we proceed."

"What?"

"The angrier you are, the lousier your fighting gets. Stop setting bad examples. Think that over for the next minute."

Crossing his arms in detest, finally settling into a still, squatted position on the sand, Shinn waited for the minute to pass and contemplated on his next move.

o+

_I hate to admit this,_ Cagalli thought as the two men took their one-minute break. _But the Commander's fighting is superb. One of the best I've seen, and I have not seen few. Poor Shinn. The Commander's using him as a human guinea pig._

She could tell that Athrun purposely let Shinn hit him with that last punch so he could show his subordinates how he would react—the right way to react.

_He's turned this fight into a demonstration for his men, _she admitted. _And Shinn's not your average fighter. It looks so easy for the Commander. I hate to admit to admit this, but he's even better than Kira._

She bit her lips, worried for Kira's foreseeable encounter with this man. _Right now, I'm not so confident Kira would win against him. _

Her anxious countenance troubled Heine and Dearka. Yzak brushed it off, saying it was the whim of women.

_What am I saying? _she slapped herself mentally. _Why am I losing faith in Kira? I'm her sister! I'm supposed to be supporting him, not the Commander. I have to trace the Commander's style for Kira, he needs to be prepared. _

The sudden fire in the girl's eyes surprised the two concerned lieutenants. Yzak, on the other hand, simply smirked, saying, "Told you she was just being moody."

The three were shook from their suspension, finally making them focus back to the fight.

A few minutes after the bout had resumed, Cagalli thought it best to start a conversation. _This is a good chance, I have all three of them here. Maybe I should start by making them feel comfortable speaking with me. _

"Don't you think the Commander's taking Shinn too seriously?"

They were all surprised to hear her talking to them, so Yzak was the first to respond. "No."

Dearka thought it was his time to show off, "No, my Lady, this happens quite often, actually."

"Bah, the kid deserves it!" Yzak interrupted. "He asked for this punishment, let him suffer."

"That was very rude of you, Yzak," Dearka whispered displeased. "Be reminded that we are speaking to a lady. A very beautiful one at that…"

"You and your flirting fits."

"Excuse me?" grunted the accused, hoping Cagalli didn't hear Yzak's last phrase.

"You heard me right. Every time a woman comes in, you always need to flaunt yourself at her face. In peace, in war, in front of your men! This is too much, Dearka. You maybe my friend, but your actions need some serious reprimanding!"

"I am not flirting," Dearka recoiled angrily. Luckily, both men were restrained enough to keep their voices low. "I'm just acting the part of a gentleman."

"That's how you play your cards every single time," Yzak spat back. "If you truly are a gentleman, then I suggest you straighten yourself up and forget messing with Athrun's woman!"

Bad move, Yzak. Heine could have sworn the wind blew harder, a frantic surge to calm her down.

"Yzak. You just had to open your _big_ mouth."

For there stood in front of them a woman whose pride, dignity, and womanhood have been scorned—a loaded cannon with a lighted trigger, ready to blow.

"Lieutenant, how dare you!"

o+

The match at hand was nearing a close. Shinn was running out of ideas, so he decided to pull off the one special stunt he had been cooking up exclusively for the Commander.

His right leg came rushing to hit Athrun's side, only to meet Athrun's hands holding back the strike. Not stopping there and with Athrun still holding his right leg, Shinn used his opponent's own grip for leverage as he jumped, twisted his body in mid-air a full 360 degrees in an effort to land a left leg kick into Athrun's neck. This attack Athrun still caught with one of his hands—this did not work in the Commander's favor, though. Now, Shinn's right leg was less restricted, and Athrun's hand holding the other leg helped Shinn balance himself as he rotated another 360 degrees, pulling his right leg out of Athrun's grasp. He used the force to gain momentum as his right leg swerved above Athrun's head and sneaked smack at his chest, kicking the superior full force. This caused Athrun to lean back, almost marking his defeat as his weight slowly shifted to make him topple off the ring.

A satisfied smirk glinted on his lips. Everyone would definitely be talking about this fight, how he, at long last, had defeated Athrun Zala. Unfortunately for Shinn, Athrun was not to be defeated in his hands today.

Just as Athrun was about to fall off, Shinn used his hands to stand, with his entire body weight on those two hands—which were not built to be used as feet—and with his two suspended feet still within arm's reach of his opponent. That was a BIG mistake. The Commander took hold of Shinn's ankles, used Shinn's weight to pull himself upright, and to Shinn's surprise, Athrun grappled at those ankles harder, the better to lift the body who owned them and throw it face first out of the ring.

The fight was officially over. The Commander, yet again, was victorious.

"I lost," Shinn grumbled, out of breath as he wiped the sand off his face. "Again…"

He stood up quickly, not wishing to wait for the Commander to offer his hand to help him up.

"You put up a good fight, Ensign," Athrun congratulated him. "As always."

"And as always, I lost," Shinn claimed resentfully, walking away.

"True, but you still fought well. Keep training. You're getting pretty good."

_You already won, do you have to rub it in? _Shinn huffed. _Four years, damn it, four years on the losing side. When was the last time you lost to anyone, Commander? Do you even remember how it feels to lose?_

Perhaps, Athrun was about to be reminded. A few feet from the ring, her fists clenched so tightly her nails seemed to crack, Cagalli was a face of enraged beauty.

"Commander, with all due respect, I challenge you to a brawl.

o+

"M… miss Cagalli, you cannot be serious, can't you?" Heine stuttered, insisting she calmed down.

"And why would I not be? Do you think I'm joking?" she spat, moving closer to the ring.

Dearka, worried Cagalli may actually break something, tried to convince her. "Wait Lady, please reconsider. We don't want you to get hurt…"

She turned her head furiously, giving him a menacing glare. "Sir, I think it is about time that someone proved your notion of women wrong."

Her presence gathered a murmuring in the crowd. "She's crazy," they said. Normally, a spy wouldn't want so much attention, but what do you expect from a princess?

A proud, unwavering, liberal princess. Cagalli, for the next few moments, would forget she was a spy.

"It is time, gentlemen," she began, her voice gaining its trained clarity, "that you refute your notion of women's inferiority. I don't see why you keep your heads stuck to the old ways of thought. Why must women be stopped from joining the army? Why must a woman have her name attached to a man's for the world to acknowledge her existence?"

Heine and Dearka threw a glance at Yzak, who sat listening and puzzled.

"Why must women be confined to being second to men?" she continued, her eyes locking into the Commander's. "I will prove your principles absolutely wrong. Women… are not second best to men… _in anything._"

The soldiers buzzed into conversation.

"A woman is challenging the Commander to a fight!"

"You think he'll accept?"

"He has to. It's a mock brawl."

"But this has to be an exception. She'll get broken in all the wrong places!"

"What a waste it would be of a good woman."

_How spiteful_, Cagalli thought. "What a bunch of sexist, discriminating…"

They were getting ridiculous—the soldiers in particular. Athrun raised his hand, a gesture to silence them. Annoyance, confusion, and stress were outlined on his face.

"The idea of fighting a woman… It's not something I'm used to. One moment, Cagalli."

When he reached his lieutenants' log, he took two big gulps from his water bottle. Wiping his mouth, he looked angrily at Dearka, "What did you do this time?"

"I didn't say anything," he defended. "It was Yzak this time."

Athrun moved his gaze to Yzak, who shot back, "I didn't say anything wrong, either."

"Do not play innocent," Dearka blamed him. "You called her Athrun's woman! You're not supposed to tell her that. Women don't like hearing that!"

"You called her WHAT?"

Athrun hated etiquette, but he valued respect. Such a derogatory address to anyone was not something he would tolerate, regardless of who gave it. But he would never allow his emotions to overcome his rationale. Putting up his calmest countenance for his men, though still unable to totally suppress his quelling anger, he said, "Yzak, that was highly disgraceful. From a noble like you, of all people."

At least Athrun didn't scold him out loud. This whole ordeal was already embarrassing in itself. Athrun only hoped Yzak had learned his lesson.

"This leaves me with little choice, you know," Athrun sighed, turning back to Cagalli. _Injustice was done to you, so it is only right that justice be served._ "Fine, I accept."

Not a single gasp. It was a basic rule in Zaft; of all their superiors, he commanded the most respect, especially when he spoke.

o+

However, the very idea of hurting a woman was most disturbing to him.

_I was raised a prince, for goodness' sake, I'm not supposed to be doing this! What would everyone back in Zaft say? This is completely against all rules a noble—or any man for that matter—must obey. Maybe I should just let her beat me to end all of this… but I can't do that! In all my brawls, Zaft's pride is on the line as well. I have to beat her. But if I beat her, it would be her pride to suffer, which would only cause her temper to rise even more. More importantly, what if I get her seriously hurt? _

The referee's signal did not shake him from his thoughts. Another big mistake. Next thing he knew, he felt two punches to his torso, an elbow to his gut, and a knee to drive the blow harder.

"I highly suggest, Commander," Cagalli, whose eyes had not lost that glowing ferocity, crackled her knuckles, getting warmed up, "that you take me _very _seriously, or you might regret it."

The pain was real enough. He was fighting his second fight tonight, and fighting it against a woman.

"Can this night get any weirder?"

Yes, it could, if he ended up losing to her.

oooooo

Please refrain from hitting Yzak with anything hard and pointed. Who do you think is going to win? Please drop your guesses in the reviews section. Next chap will be out soon, after needed editing. Hope to get more reviews from you all, see ya.


	15. Her Story

Ok, let's put up the scoreboard

People who want Cagalli to win: 5

People who think Cagalli will win: 2

People who have stated they wanted her to win, and believe she will: 3

People who probably want her to win, but think Athrun will win: 4

Draw: 2

Undecided: 3

Guess where I belong. I will no longer prolong the agony. Here goes.

Disclaimer: The author of this fic does not own gundam seed/destiny, or its characters, because if I claimed I did, would delete my story—wouldn't it?—and the copyright people will sue me. Any similarities from other fics are purely coincidental, and so are any allusions to real events, places and people.

oooooo

Chapter 15: Her Story

"Yzak, you should really be taking back what you said earlier."

Silence answered Heine.

"Maybe you should consider apologizing."

Silence, again, met the older lieutenant.

"Yzak…"

"I know! You don't have to remind me."

"She fights well for a woman," Dearka commented. The lady was amazingly skillful.

"Even for a man, actually."

That voice was heard rarely during these hours. Le Creuset stood behind Heine, rubbing his chin as he told Yzak and Dearka, "I'd say she'd give you two a run for your money."

It was a discreet insult to the two lieutenants, so he added, "What I meant to say was that she matches you in speed. There's no way she can match you in sheer strength; she doesn't have enough weight to do that. But don't we all agree that what she lacks in speed, she makes up for in surprise?"

Cagalli delivered a right fist, which Athrun caught in one hand, preempting his vision of her other fist ramming into his cheek.

"I believe my point has been proven. As an added bonus, she packs a pretty good punch."

At this point, it seemed that Cagalli was the better fighter. All Athrun did was evade and get hit—the defensive was never the best side to be in. Miles apart from how he performed in his bout with Shinn.

"The Commander's taking her easily," Yzak brought up.

"Tired?" Dearka guessed.

"No, Lt. Joule is right," Heine affirmed. "The Commander's _letting_ himself get hit. The question is why."

"Two reasons," Le Creuset's eyes moved back and forth, from the lady's furious visage, to her eye-twisting moves, and to the Commander's narrowed eyes—as if this fight was an intricate specimen subject to his observation. "There are two reasons for the Commander to take his time in fighting with this girl.

"There won't be much to see if he defeats her in one strike. He's trying to measure what she's capable of. That's one."

Indeed, Cagalli would have appeared to be the better fighter, but only to the untrained eye. It was obvious that Cagalli was expending far more energy than Athrun was, and that Athrun had never attempted to hit her even once.

"Stop playing games, Commander, I am dead serious about this," Cagalli grunted as she delivered successive strikes. "Are you thinking I won't stand an attack from you?"

_How right you are… _Athrun thought. It would have been so easy for him to end all of this with one mighty punch to knock her out, but he figured that might injure her seriously—something he didn't want to happen. Not to say he'd refuse to the challenge of a good fight, though. Cagalli's moves were unusually dynamic, unpredictable and surprisingly painful: things Athrun—or anyone else in base camp—would have never expected out of a woman. This fight was a fight too good for Athrun to pass.

_Just a tad bit curious of how good she really is, _he thought.

Nevertheless, Cagalli had one major flaw.

"If there's one weakness she has," Le Creuset started to explain to his three colleagues, "it's defense."

They noted his words as they watched her launch her kicks and punches, Athrun beginning to evade more than intercept.

"The advantage of attacking as quickly as possible is that it doesn't give the opponent the chance to strike back," he continued. "But that would only work if you can deliver attacks that will actually damage your opponent. What's worse for our friend is that she's leaving herself open for attack. That's fine as long as her opponent isn't fighting back. However…"

Eventually, Athrun decided it _was_ time to stop playing games. Upon blocking Cagalli's last blow, Athrun took hold of the arm that released it, and disabled her with a strike to her midsection—the first Athrun had dealt her since the beginning of this fight. He placed one hand on her belly and lifted her up, one of her arms he anchored as he inverted her body before slamming it into the ground.

And yet he still took special care not to break any of Cagalli's bones. _Take it easy, _he told himself_. You don't want to hurt her_ that_ badly… _No matter how skillful of a fighter she was, Cagalli was still a girl.

"Your temper is getting the better of you, Lady. I suggest you calm down for a few seconds and try to recall that your opponent has the ability to strike back. And if you don't figure out a way to defend yourself, you _will_ lose."

The very same problem Shinn had earlier. His unmoved, austere countenance seems to annoy quite a few people. Standing up, the girl prepared for the Commander's offensive.

"Much better. Now, it's my turn."

o+

Somewhere in the far ends of base camp, Shinn crawled into his tent to gather a few things, which included a set of daggers and his sword. Within his periphery lie Archer's Rock, the rock hill range his division faced.

_Just a few minutes more_, he thought. _I wonder what the Commander has in mind… _

A few feet away, he spotted Luna and her sister, Meyrin's eyes still puffy.

"I promise I'll never do it again," the elder Hawke apologized for the umpteenth time. "I didn't know he was there!"

"What's done is done, Luna," Meyrin said weakly, still rubbing her eyes. "It's just that I can't face him anymore, not after that…"

"After what?"

Luna's furious stare made Shinn smirk. "Oh, get lost, Ensign, we've already made enough trouble for ourselves. We don't need your meddling."

"Look who's talking," Shinn sneered. "Let me guess, the Commander found out Meyrin's little crush on him?"

Both girls gasped. "How did _you_ know?"

"Please, it's obvious," he said with a laugh, walking back to the bonfire. "Besides, there's nothing to worry about. The Commander won't treat her any differently. Even if a woman stripped in front of him, he probably wouldn't even flinch."

o+

Punch. Block. Jab. Catch. Kick. Block again. A leg hovering straight for her neck. Duck and stand up. A punch to her midsection. Hit.

Athrun was on the offensive now. His attacks came in rapid succession, like a well-oiled machine—mechanic, yet unpredictable. One strike would be readily followed by another from all sorts of directions, as if two were to hit her at the same time. For the most of them, Cagalli was able to either block or evade, but she could not avoid contact completely. Her feet were dangerously edging the ring.

_I have to get back to the offensive,_ she thought. _If my arms are too busy blocking his attacks, I'll use something else. _

Instead of catching the right fist rushing to her, she caught hold of Athrun's outstretched arm. Athrun tried to ram his other forearm so that she would let go, but Cagalli blocked this and took hold of the other arm. Both hands caught, he tried kicking her off, but she beat him to it.

Startled by the sudden attack, Athrun lost sense of his surroundings for a few moments. The opportunity was right there—she swung her left leg, kicking Athrun smack on his chest with all her strength, sending him plummeting to his bottom.

Everyone felt like falling off their seats. Only Le Creuset could have kept his jaw in place.

"Gentlemen, when was the last time we have seen the Commander bleed in a mock brawl?"

Dabbing his fingers on the sticky, red patch on his forehead, Athrun could have sworn he was dreaming.

_This girl has just delivered a full force head butt! _

Not left without damage, Cagalli pressed the back of her hand on the swelling bump on her forehead. "At least… I got you to move back," she said panting.

"Hard-headed, aren't we?"

"It's a compliment I'm quite used to," she grinned eagerly, launching another offensive.

o+

"What on earth is she thinking?"

Luna stormed among the seated soldiers, approaching Shinn, who had taken a spot close to the lieutenants.

"Has she gone mad? Challenging the Commander?" she wheezed, Meyrin following closely. "Shinn, shouldn't we be stopping them?"

He was momentarily deaf to Luna's words, absorbed by the fight in their midst. Luna deemed it useless to speak to him at this point, incoherently mumbling things about Cagalli being too reckless and the Commander being unusually unethical. Minutes later, she heard a buzzing sound nearby, growing into the raucous outburst of her flabbergasted friend.

"Where did _she _come from, damn it?"

"Hm, from Orb?" Luna answered mockingly.

"Shut up, Luna, I have no need for your opinions today. How is a woman capable of being this good? And why is the Commander prolonging this fight? Is he having fun in this whole affair?"

Shinn's voice got so loud, it gathered the lieutenants' attention.

_From Orb? _Heine thought, remembering Zaft's change of plans regarding Orb's conquest. _The Commander's acquainted with someone from Orb?_

_Since when have they met? _Dearka wondered. _Come to think of it, Athrun never told us he had met someone from Orb, and considering we are about to attack it, I wonder why…_

Certainly, Yzak was the most suspicious. _Hm… _

_A spy. _

The three lieutenants convened with one thing in mind. They would have to speak to the Commander of this matter after the fight.

"I don't really see why the Commander doesn't just end this," Shinn groaned. "It would be so easy…"

"On the contraire, Ensign," said a voice standing next to him, a trademark mask glowing in the bonfire light. "You see, the Commander is at a disadvantage in all of this."

They didn't want to, but the other lieutenants had to agree. For starters, this was Athrun's second fight of the night, and dealing with Shinn was never an easy task. This also means that Cagalli was given the chance to evaluate the Commander's fighting before they faced, whereas Athrun was not.

"Another thing, and perhaps Miss Cagalli's biggest advantage," and this was also the second reason why Athrun took his sweet time in fighting with this girl, "is the fact that she is a woman."

"Which should mean she's weaker?"

"Had you been here earlier, Ensign, you wouldn't be saying that. Weakness isn't based solely on physical power. Brought up the way he was, I doubt the Commander has ever lifted a finger on a woman before. Though he was willing to break that record out of the girl's insistence, there are still some things a man like him would never be willing to do to a woman. Unfortunately, the same is not the case for our lady friend here. She's willing to hit him with every thing she's got. Now tell me, as his childhood friends," Le Creuset addressed the three officers he shared his rank with, "do you think our Commander has the heart to do that to a girl?"

_Hesitation, _they thought in unison. It was one of Athrun's bad habits, something that reared its ugly head every once in a while—never in battle, but in awkward situations like this. Shinn bit his lips, hiding the frustration, _Damn it, I'm supposed to beat you first. Don't you dare lose on this one, Commander! _

o+

_The blood's getting in my eyes, _Cagalli grumbled. _What will it take to get him out of this ring? _

She had tried everything possible. Punches, kicks, high kicks, knees, head butts, backflips…

_Wait, there _is_ something I haven't tried yet, _she thought, a naughty smile on her face.

Slightly annoyed by his opponent's smile, he could not deny this was getting awfully frustrating. _It's not that I can't beat her. It's just that she won't let me throw her off!_

This bout had already taken 30 minutes of their time. After this, he had to make a very important announcement. He huffed softly, subtly blaming himself as he eyed the Lunian rock hill nearby. _I was just being curious, and this is what I get?_ _I just wanted to see how good she was…_

_Maybe I should have ended this fight early on. _

The point was that he had to end this fight as soon as possible. He sighed—this fight has definitely proven to be the most surreal, uncanny, and awkward of fights. Much earlier, when Cagalli was still subdued in anger, Athrun had full control of the fight. As usual, his gift of combat foresight did not fail him; he saw through all of Cagalli's attacks, and evaded and intercepted as he pleased. Right now, that wasn't an option. Cagalli, in full determination and composure, evaded most of his offensives, and executed attacks on him without him knowing it beforehand. Very few people could do this to him. Even worse, knocking her out was still an option he wasn't willing to take.

_Not a girl. Never a girl. Never._

In short, the fight was getting harder for him by the minute, and being used to being the advantaged side, Athrun didn't like the feeling. These thoughts distracting him, a nimble-footed shadow crossed his view, aimed her elbow to his gut, foreshadowing a sharp blow.

_That was my move_, Shinn thought in the sidelines.

_But unlike Ensign Asuka,_ _I won' t be catching you. _"Perfect timing," Athrun would have added as he shifted to the right, knowing Cagalli would miss and topple off the ring, but nimble-footed Cagalli wasn't about to let that happen. She did miss, fell forward, but did not fall off the ring. Instead, her swift hands anchored her weight on two steady feet just inches from the ring's bounds, carefully balancing herself as her hunched body tipped forward—at least 45 degrees—and gained enough momentum to bounce back.

"I'm not done yet," she shot back.

As her feet landed on the ground, she used the impact for more momentum, as she ran, again, full force at Athrun, who had moved to the center of the ring. Strikes raining on him in swift series, he thought, _Is she trying to push me off the ring? She should have known by now that would be impossible for her._

It was time for Cagalli to pull off her second move. Taking the offensive, Athrun heaved a high kick at Cagalli, missing as the young woman ducked and landing his foot a couple of feet from the other. To everyone's surprise, Cagalli slid between his legs—which incited everyone's gasps in unison—getting behind her opponent. Before he could turn around, she wrapped her arms around the young man's neck, locking it in a sort of embrace.

"What is she trying to do?" Shinn asked as Athrun struggled to get the girl off his back. Athrun was thinking the exact same thing.

"What is she holding on to the Commander for? Is it some kind of strategy?" one of the soldiers whispered.

"Maybe she's grown tired of running around the ring," another suspected.

"Maybe she's fresh out of ways to attack him," said yet another.

"I've never seen anything like this."

"What a queer lady."

"Deranged, I'd say."

"But pretty."

"I can't help but envy the Commander, though."

Soldiers were trained to show the utmost respect for their Commander, but some things were just too curious not to be noted. Noticing how unusually noisy his men were getting and how uncomfortably ridiculous the whole situation was getting to be, Athrun struggled even harder to free himself.

"Now where is this supposed to get to? Let go!"

"Make me, Commander," the girl jeered. _There's only one way to get me off of you, Commander, and that is to pry me off._

This was getting to be _extremely _embarrassing for Athrun, who was worried Cagalli's actions were inciting unwanted rumors among the men. Not that it would make the men think lowly of their leader; most of the soldiers found the Commander's coldness towards women highly unusual for a popular stud of his age. It was just that being associated with a woman in this way made him feel uneasy.

He couldn't stand it anymore. One more minute in this position and rumors of a never-conceived affair between him and Cagalli would headline Zaft's newspapers. If this girl didn't get off the ring this instant, he was bound to blow.

And Shinn just had to prick him just when he was about to pop.

"Please, Commander," he said, one brow raised and loud enough for most people in front row to hear. "You're _obviously _enjoying it."

It hit him like a brick wall slamming into hard concrete. The rubber ducky that was his patience ignited, shriveled up, and consumed in flames.

Pop.

"That's it," Athrun bellowed. "This ends _right now_. I know this goes against everything I've learned about women and etiquette, but to hell with those. She needs to get off me _right now_."

Taking Cagalli by the clothes on her chest and the waistline of her trousers, Athrun—who had somehow ended up facing the edge of the ring—poised to throw Cagalli to the other side.

"Sorry, Cagalli, but _this… will… hurt…_"

And this was the chance she had been waiting for.

Whatever reservations he had in releasing his energy against Cagalli were completely rubbed out. With full force, he tore Cagalli off his back—where Cagalli purposely loosened her hold—and motioned to catapult her face first into the air. But just before Athrun could release her, Cagalli was able to get a grip on Athrun's neck, grabbing it with both hands so that they hooked on her opponent's neck as he heaved her above his head. Extending her legs for more force, and adding her own weight and the immense force Athrun had exerted to throw her off, she pulled his neck forward as she fell. Losing his balance, Athrun fell on one knee as Cagalli went airborne before her back hit the ground with a violent thud.

The fight was over. T'was pretty clear who won.

"What do you know…" Dearka broke the overwhelming silence that followed, his eyes bulging.

"_Who_ would've known?" Yzak stuttered, his eyes bulging wider.

"This fight should go into the history books…" remarked Heine, still lost in the turn of events.

"The Commander… won?" Shinn concluded. "Is there supposed to be something new about that? Sure, he had a hard time, but he still won."

No one answered back. Everyone was too dumbstruck by reality's bitter-sweet surprise. Staring at the spot he had _accidentally_ knelt on, Athrun's expression changed from confused, to surprised, to downright devastated.

"Wha…"

Standing up, Cagalli brushed the dirt off her shirt and revealed a proud, satisfied smile.

"What do you know, my plan worked."

Athrun still couldn't believe it. Cagalli continued gleefully.

"Your knee touched the ground first, right? It doesn't matter if I got completely thrown off; it was still you who touched outside the ring first. Right?"

He was still having trouble absorbing it.

"So that means… I won. And you lost. Correct?"

The truth came like a giant, ruthless boulder rolling full speed down a mountain and crushing everything in sight. The crowd burst into an outcry, all saying one common line…

"The Commander lost… to a girl?

They erupted into a mass of words, one set clouding the other, nothing in unison, all words indiscernible. Amidst what could have been called "chaos", Cagalli thought it best to approach the Commander and offer him a hand to help him stand up.

"I think I've proven my point," she smiled affably. "Still think women are second to men in battle?"

He was still a bit shaken and disconcerted. _I just got beaten by a girl… I just got beaten by a girl…_ kept running in his head. From a distance, he could see his three friends arguing on how he, the Commander of the world's most elite army, could have let this happen, Lt. Le Creuset and his devious grins, and Shinn, in what seemed to have been a trance as he stared at his palms, eyes wide like saucers, saying…

"I can't believe he lost to a girl, I can't believe he lost to a girl, I refuse to believe he lost to a girl, I refuse to believe he lost for the first time in the longest time… to of all people, a girl!"

"I slipped, dimwit, nothing more," Athrun grumbled subtly.

Cagalli couldn't help but feel sorry for him. She didn't think it was embarrassing to be defeated by a girl—after all, she did prove to everyone that she was a formidable match—but being beaten by anyone at all when he was supposed to be the strongest among an army of 20, 000 men was certainly a slap in the face.

"Look," she said sheepishly. "I didn't want to humiliate you, I just wanted to prove a point. I just hope I made the right one…"

The circulating whispers in the assembly began to disturb her. They all seemed to be about her—her name, where she came from, what she did for a living, what she was doing in base camp… all things personal. Then she realized, _Bad move, Cagalli. So much for making your presence unfelt. I was supposed to be a spy! Even worse, the Commander may even be furious at me now that I've defeated him in front of everyone. What do I do now? How will I dodge his questions? This is bad, Cagalli, really bad!_

"It's perfectly alright."

His voice carried its accustomed crystal clarity. All whispers fell silent at the motion of his body standing up, taking Cagalli's hand to help himself to his feet.

"Hopefully, this won't do much damage to my reputation," he spoke softly. "But anyway, you fight incredibly well. Congratulations," he paused, pressing the hand he held. "I'll think about the things you said. Thank you for the conversation, and for the fight, I guess."

Soon, he let go. His face kept its usual apathetic expression. "But let me tell you, Cagalli," he continued, forcing his lips to refrain from a smile, "I had a lot of fun tonight."

He said this with his eyes averted to the Lunian rock hill face meters away. Puzzled, she thought his austere countenance did not match the words he spoke. If the rest of the army were to hear that, they would burst into another collaboration of rumors and murmurs. _It would have been natural_, she thought. _I doubt his men had ever seen him like this. I guess they've never seen him smile at a woman, either. _

_How interesting, _she added as an afterthought.

_He seems to be shy around the ladies. _

Both sides turned their backs against each other, Athrun returning to his lieutenants' spot, and Cagalli finding a seat beside Luna and Meyrin, who have decided to sit at the side opposite of the Commander's.

o+

The blood from her forehead had stopped gushing earlier, and now the red trails formed into crusted, scabby clots. Luna gave her an ice bag and medication to quell the swelling.

"That was absolutely reckless," Luna told her as she took a sip of wine. Wine was now being passed for every man and woman to take a cup. "Given that, since you've always been reckless, where _did _you learn to do all that?"

Sipping her own cup, Cagalli knew this question was coming. "My brother taught me."

"A warrior for Orb, I presume?"

"Not quite," Cagalli answered stiffly, careful not to expose her brother's identity. "Let's just say he's a scholar of physical combat."

As Luna continued to sip from her cup, Cagalli noticed Meyrin's quietness. The younger girl kept her eyes on her clasped fingers, tapping on her lap.

"Is there something wrong?" Cagalli asked her.

"Oh? No, nothing's wrong," responded Meyrin, avoiding raising her head.

Cagalli thought it was the night's embarrassing reveal that troubled her friend. "You know, he probably doesn't even remember. There's nothing to be worried or embarrassed about. Cheer up, Meyrin."

She smiled, but deep inside there existed a sparking feeling. She had never borne dislike towards Cagalli, but what she had seen tonight provoked something she could not help but transcend into concrete thought. Cagalli did not notice this, preoccupied by the event of Athrun standing up to make what seemed to be a very important announcement.

_That's the problem. He won't remember me, but he'll remember you. _

Meanwhile, on the Commander's side of camp, the lieutenants have been briefed of Shinn's news from Lunius and Le Creuset's regards as to how to deal with it.

"You say full force, Ensign, are you sure?"

"They'll need every man they've got," Shinn told his Commander, peering through the hills that stood behind him. Upon their leader's command, all lieutenants stood in a platoon, placing Athrun in the middle. He raised his right hand to call everyone's attention, and began with his big announcement.

The wind was getting colder and stronger as the night settled deeper into the Lunian natural barricade, creeping along the veins of the soil and sinking into the hearts of men, freezing from within. Suddenly, a strong gust shook everyone and everything, including the bonfire. From its glorious blaze, it was reduced to a small spark in the darkness, then slowly it regained strength again, until it grew back to its full splendor. Not one face twitched at the winds whip-like caress—their Commander's announcement was too important.

"They're moving," Shinn said warily. It was time for everyone to know the task at hand.

"Gentlemen," Athrun began, his voice deep, commanding, and perforating, echoing the onslaughts of Zaft's army, ready to make his crucial announcement.

oooooo

So does the title make sense now? Contrast with "His-story" of chap 13. Get it? This time, I'll leave the rest of the postnote to you. Fill it in with your reviews. Me was jumping up and down when I saw 21 reviews in two days. Me will update fast if I get a lot of reviews. But me will still update with or without reviews. But make me happy with reviews. Honestly, I need them. And I love them. So please…

Thanks.


	16. Honor, Courage and Pride

Ok people, sorry for the REALLY long wait. My PC got busted and… just be thankful I didn't have to lose the files for this chap. Anyway, because this requires you to have a basic understanding of what the area looks like, you are advised to check the picture in my profile (the link, I mean). It's to help you understand what base camp and Archers' Rock look like.

This is a very long chap. REALLY long. Hope you don't find it boring. Ok, I'm confident you won't. BTW, in case you wanted to know, the tactics mentioned in this chap came from my overly stressed out cranium. SO BEAR WITH IT, even if they don't sound totally realistic. I'm making up for that with style, anyway.

Hope this was worth the wait. Even if I didn't put Cagalli in.

Disclaimer: The author of this fic does not own gundam seed/destiny, or its characters, because if I claimed I did, would delete my story—wouldn't it?—and the copyright people will sue me. Any similarities from other fics are purely coincidental, and so are any allusions to real events, places and people.

Chap 16: Honor, Courage and Pride

A dying flame. In the dead of night, soldiers' lamps lit underneath black tents were the only source of light in Zaft's base camp. The torches—save for those lit in the sentinels' outposts—and the grand bonfire had long been put out. As long as the oil that fed them did not run out, the small flickering lights, together, seemed to conquer the deep sea of black night. Oil was a scarce commodity in Zaft, so to save on it, the soldiers turned off the lamps before they slept. At the sound of hundreds of creaking lamps' knobs these small illuminations faded out into oblivion, leaving in their place tiny, red embers shrouding the lamps' wicks. These red sparks glowed in the darkness for awhile, until the wind blew on them, disposing them into nothingness.

"When all their lamps are turned off, and only the lighted torches remain, that sign signals the entire Zaft army's sweet repose. Wait for a few minutes—an hour or so—to make sure that all have slept. Then launch the attack."

Upon giving them instructions on how to initiate the ambush, Lunius' lady guest had taken her leave, saying that she must give an immediate report to her lord and master, whose good grace and benevolence had decided to help the two city states defend themselves from the Zaft army.

"What better way to defend than to attack?"

And what better way to attack than in stealth? As soon as Lunius' flaming arrows hit the black fabric of the tents, the flames would incarcerate every living flesh and bone on the sands, consuming everything in an earthly inferno. In the dead of sleep, Zaft would not be able to react immediately. Those who will be able to survive and run to safety will meet the joined infantry units of Lunius and Miyercuria, those who will clean up what would be left of the Imperial Crusade. Fairly simple, yet devastatingly promising.

"To attack in stealth. I can't believe we've been reduced to such cowardice."

At the top of Archer's Rock, he concealed himself behind the slabs that their ancestors had mounted on the rock slope centuries before this moment. King Aiman of Lunius peered over Zaft's base camp with his lieutenant Ades, waiting for all the seconds to tick away like the hourglass does for its cascading sand.

He looked on, evaluating the target. The only lighted areas now were the base camp outposts—at least 30—where a platoon of 12 men each stood guard. They all stood motionless in perfect military rigor—not a single foot out of order in the perfectly aligned rows. The rest of camp was a sea of black, where the golden hue of sand was completely indiscernible from the darkness.

o+

"My king," Lt. Ades told his king while they discussed the attack earlier that day. Lunius' lady guest raised a primly trimmed brow, annoyed by the sudden interruption.

"Even if we send a cloud of flaming arrows over their heads, there are still several ways for the Zaft soldiers to escape death."

"Care to enumerate, Lt.?" the lady yawned meekly, her dainty fingers fingering her chin.

"For one, the sentinels would see the arrows rearing from the rock hill's peak as we commence the assault. Everyone in base camp would be alerted for sure."

"Everyone?" the lady noted doubtfully. "This is an area stretching at least half a mile of land, Sir, I don't think it's possible. Besides, the arrows would have killed off the sentinels in no time."

"Zaft soldiers have been trained well in warding off long-range attacks. They would be able to warn a _substantial _number. Furthermore, one arrow stuck to a tent cannot engulf a tent completely. That would, again, give them enough time to wear their armor and gather their arms."

Following the lieutenant's words was stillness, a contemplation of the plan's flaws. Momentarily, the lady did not know what to say. Moments later, as if the Northern winds blew on her ear to send her master's message, she spoke, "Lt., isn't it true that in the midst of a fire, the first instinct of a man is to find a way out?"

Lt. Ades huffed resentfully. He had run out of ways to discredit the lady's plan; there was just something about her that made him feel uneasy.

_This plan I'd trust had it come from someone else, even if it came from the Miyercurian king. It's you I never will._

"Or crouch and hide and cry like a little baby," the lady continued. "Being soldiers, they'd rather run than cower. Scram out of their tents. To add, you will be attacking them while they are sound asleep. How would you feel after being awakened and finding a burning arrow sticking on the roof over your head? What if another sinks in? And another? And yet one more? What if one pierces through the fabric, nails your blanket to the ground, and lights it ablaze? Wouldn't you try to get out immediately?"

The rest of the assembly doubted her as well, but her logic proved to have no perceptible flaw.

"Gentlemen, if you are in danger of being set on fire, and every minute is crucial for you to be spared, would you even bother to wear armor or find your weapons? No! They'll scramble as soon as they find arrows raining on their unprotected bodies, and thousands of your soldiers closing in on their tender flesh. Panic. Mayhem. Confusion. Feed on that, and I guarantee you victory. The Commander would not be there to lead them, ha, he'll be busy trying to ward off the arrows himself! Not to mention the horses would go crazy at the sight of fire. Speaking of which, I suggest you aim for the stables as well. They'll run over some of the soldiers. Many hands—and hooves—make light work…"

"We can't have that," the king broke.

"Can't have what?"

"Horses," the king told her. "We don't have many horses here. The army isn't used to them. Chances are well get run over first. Aim for everything else, except for the horses. We can try to take them when we've finished dealing with Zaft's men."

"Fine then, keep the horses out of it," the lady pouted. "Just avoid the base camp's corners; that's where they keep the horses. As for the rest of base camp, I think I've made it clear. Gentlemen, tonight will be your night of glory. Their leaders will never see this coming. No one has ever been brave enough to attack Zaft in their slumber."

o+

"Since when did attacking someone in his sleep become an act of bravery?" the lieutenant mumbled disdainfully.

The king did not want to answer; there was no need to reaffirm their helplessness yet again. From a distance, the Miyercurian king was fast approaching, done briefing his men below. His menacing eyes were full of avarice, as replete as he was with the fats on his blubbery neck. _Animal_, Aiman thought. _I must be damned by my ancestors for conceding to work with you. _

Behind King Aiman stood his archers, Lunian soldiers all preparing themselves, wrapping arrows in white linen and lining up the oil barrels where which the arrows would be dipped in. The hour had been reduced to a few minutes. They began lighting the torches they had mounted behind the rock face to conceal them from the sentinels' view. Below these men armed with the bow were men armed with the sword, spear and shield. Lunian infantries stood side by side with Miyercurians, hidden behind Archer's Rock. The rows of men have been compressed to fit the expanse of the rugged façade, red against iron rust, as the two armies' colors converged like the pages of a book.

"Like cowards crouching in one corner of a cage, imprisoned with a sleeping wild beast," the king whispered. "I've realized a few things lately, Lt."

The addressed fell silent. Lunian arrows were used for defense, never for the offensive. To use distance and elevation as the aggressor's advantage was a crime for the Lunian soldier. Their king was proud, and so were they. To these men, what they were doing now caused more pain than any mortal wound any enemy could inflict.

How they despised the word: Cowardice.

"There are some things I would never have been willing to do, Fredrik," Aiman breathed deeply, allowing the piercing spikes of the night air puncture his lungs. "You know full well this is one of them. But if being a coward is what it takes to save my city, then I'll be one."

The lieutenant nodded, knowing that all the king's soldiers and all the king's men shared the same bitter feeling in their hearts.

o+

Taking out his pocket watch, the king's eyes followed the ticking second hand as it closed in on the final five minutes of their wait. Briefing his men now would be a bad idea. The key to this whole assault was stealth, secrecy, and silence. Five minutes would be enough to warn the entire base camp that something was dead wrong. Not one sound must be heard from Archer's Rock… not one word…

"Nothing but silence. The sweet sound of victory," said a gruff, brutish voice. "To think it only takes this to sink the great Zaft army. My name will go down in history," King Nerod paused, realizing his mistake. "No, sorry. _Our _names will be remembered as Zaft's oppressors. Such an intriguing thought, don't you think so?"

_Does it not even graze this pig's mind that this victory he thinks of so highly is worth nothing more than his ancestry's disgust?_ Ades grumbled. _Where is the glory in fighting alongside the enemy your forefathers swore would be ground to the bone, and in hiding behind the cover of a giant wall and the night's spell of sleep? _

Seeing Ades about to initiate what might result into a commotion, King Aiman sent him down to the infantries to manage the land assault. The lieutenant obeyed promptly, running along the slopes as discreetly as possible while he told the men he passed, "Keep you arms ready for the signal to come in three minutes." He could feel the soldiers nod slowly, avoiding sudden movements. A single clang of armor can wake up a Zaft soldier.

o+

The last minute was ticking away, the hour of assault closing in. King Aiman took another deep breath, searching the heavens for a sign. The moon's and star's light were shadowed by the purplish-black clouds, leaving not even a twinkle of heavenly light. All that would illuminate tonight's attack would be the flames.

Three. Tick. Two. Tick. One. The shrill ring of an unsheathed sword was the archers' signal. A thousand bows were strained, a thousand bowstrings stretched, even more arrows aimed. Behind the mounted slabs that concealed them, a golden, eerie glow shone. Anyone staring in front of Archer's Rock would have seen.

_The flame will blow our cover_, all of them thought. _But it will also secure our victory! _

Save for one. Lt. Ades could see the Zaft sentinels quite clearly from where he stood. Something was _dead_ wrong.

"Why aren't the guards moving? It's impossible for them not to notice the glow from the flaming arrows. They should be the first people to see!"

He was too late. His king's hand, holding his bright, silver sword, had already waved forward, signaling the arrows to be launched. The first set of arrows had been cast, a giant sheet of wood headed with a deluge of fire, reaching out for the sky with bright scorching arms before they plunged into the ground. They would fall at different paces like the stinging raindrops of a storm. As they fell, the entire base camp was indulged in flames, reducing its black veil of darkness to tattered shreds intertwined with the glowing arrows planted in all sorts of places—most of which on the sand, some protruding out of the tents, some on the logs used in the evening bonfire, and some on the hundreds of shields scattered in spaces between the tents. Then another set of arrows were launched. And another. And another. And hundreds more.

King Aiman continued to send arrows plummeting to base camp until every patch of it was on fire, save for the walking paths, which his soldiers could use to traverse the base camp with in their search for the survivors. In their midst was a stunning site. At their foot was a pit of flames, arms still in a desperate effort to reach for the sky, as if the soldiers who perished beneath them joined in their plea. They looked like tortured spirits, reaching out to him. The king looked at the burning abyss beneath them and mumbled, "Hell."

The darkness of night had met an overwhelming defeat—its oppressor, the small, crackling flames on the arrows' heads, now sown and full grown on the sands. From the top of Archer's Rock, their golden hue seemed to have been blotted with a spreading shade of blood red.

o+

"Strange," the Miyercurian King Nerod muttered. "Why aren't any of the soldiers coming out?

"The lady seems to have erred," Aiman replied.

"Ha, so they chose to hide. Fools, they'd be consumed in their own tents!"

_No, they must have something else up their sleeve,_ guessed the Lunian king, _and we ought to find out before they can pull it off. _He bellowed in his loudest voice, "Men, we have no time to waste. As I have told you, split into two groups. The first will take Zaft's western side, the second will take the east. Brush off the burning fabric with your swords and chances are you'll find the soldiers hiding in their tents. They will not be able to leave their tents until someone takes the flaming sheets off their heads. Be it you who grant them that favor, but behead them afterwards. Move, before they get a chance to prepare themselves!"

Without waiting for Lt. Ades, who was supposed to relay the king's orders before they were executed, Lunian soldiers joined Miyercurians as they jumped out of concealment, stomping on the fire-free paths with rabidly eager faces. They were more cautious than Miyercurians, who barged in brutally with their loud, disunited battle cries, but nevertheless, they could not have waited any longer to grasp this kind of illustrious victory. _We have stooped this low to reach this high. Coward or no coward, there's no point in stopping now, _they thought.

_We will be remembered as the men who brought down the great Zaft army! _

Victory does, indeed, wield an irresistible gift of temptation. Only the night sky's and their own eyes would be witness to this "shameful" victory anyway. But history will remember it as one of the most overwhelming victories ever won. This made them sprint even faster, straining under their armor and eagerly searching for a mad Zaft soldier waiting to be beheaded.

But to their dismay, all they found were the sentinels standing guard earlier, some of them now impaled with arrows, others lucky enough to have been missed. What surprised them even more were their perfectly rigid and motionless bodies, as if not one of them even dared to jump out of the arrows' way. Thinking it was still best to ensure that they were dead, the Lunians went on to stab these sentinels mercilessly. Their limbs were dislodged from their sockets marked by the armors' joints, ushering the clanging ring of metal breastplates, swords and shields…

One of the few sounds that echoed in base camp at that time. Not one Zaft soldier squeaked in pain. Insulted, one of the Miyercurians went as far as beheading one of the sentinels. This was followed by another beheading, and another, and another. Aprilian heads went flying into the mayhem.

In this _silent_ mayhem.

"Silence! It's too silent!" Lt. Ades gasped. "No one's screaming, no one's shouting. Not one Zaft soldier. They should be screaming in pain by now. Not when they were burned, not when stabbed, not even when beheaded! It can't be; it just can't be!"

As the lieutenant went off to tell his king how terribly wrong this ambush has become, little did he know that those soldiers beheading Aprilians had already found out. Rolling on the floor were Zaft helmets, alright, but they were tainted with no blood. Peering through each of the helmet's cavities was a block of wood, set on top of a complete set of armor, also stuffed with wood.

o+

They minded neither the searing flames licking their faces nor Lt. Ades' figure scampering to where the king stood far above them, yet the sheer heat that toasted the soles of their feet made them dash madly across the walking paths along base camp. They were packed together, clusters keeping distance from the tents. The flames were getting bigger. Lunian and Miyercurian foot soldiers started crowding random tents—those least engulfed by the flames—like muggers cornering an old defenseless lady. Some of their faces gripped their weapons with an ominous sense of uneasiness, some grinned devilishly, and anxiously waited to see the "obnoxious" Zaft soldiers beg for mercy.

"Why don't you come out, Mr.-I'm-so-strong-'cause-I'm-a-Zaft-soldier?" jeered an old Miyercurian captain, knowing no one will answer back. "Still alive in there? Or did I scare the pants out of you, laddy boy? Oh well, looks like you're not coming out on your own. Let me help you, then!" he shrieked gleefully as he brushed off the blazing tent above its owner's…

"What? Where is he?"

An outstretched blanket with flames budding at its edges. Supplies. A few weapons and nothing else. Angrily, the captain and his troops haphazardly searched tents for a single body.

"None! Where are they? Where are the Zaft soldiers?"

It echoed through the dumbfound silence of other soldiers unable to comprehend the mystery that lay before them. In frantic search for their missing adversaries, hundreds of soldiers started pulling off every tent that met their way, finding only spread out blankets and a number of insignificant belongings strewn among the bloodless carnage. "How? How could they have vanished like ghosts?" they screamed.

_Panic. Mayhem. Confusion. Feed on that, and I guarantee you victory._

How right the lady was. It was then that they realized how the scattered shields by their feet were inclined against the ground, one side raised as the other seemed half buried in the sand. Before they could take a closer look at the shields, a rumbling sound was heard. A hundred drums beat in discord, uniting in one petrifying march…

It was a terrible omen. Heaven, now stark black, and hell, now shaking beneath them, seemed to condemn them for this shameful path to "victory". The drums got louder, their sound making its way along the walking paths stuffed with foot soldiers.

"Horses!"

No man on foot can match a rampaging horse at full speed. In one huge herd of wild thumping, the horses came, barraging across the matrix of walking paths. Before someone could shout for everyone to make a run over it, the horses began to run over Lunians and Miyercurians alive. Most of them have never seen a horse in their lifetimes. Many of them started to dash madly along the paths, hoping to outrun the horses. There was no way they could pull it off. The beasts' giant hooves trampled hundreds of men, their bones crushed and splintered, their muscles torn and mangled, brains bashed and splattered. At least some of the soldiers knew the right thing to do: jump away from the path. As soon as they knew the coast was clear, they unclasped their hands from their trembling heads, thankful to be alive.

The sand has grown hot in his face, stinging his eyes. The Lunian captain had been one of the smarter ones able to duck just in time before a stallion kicked the brains out his head. Now he lay prostrate on the hot sands and alongside the flames with his ear sticking to the soil and his nape facing whatever kept one of the shields raised on one side. Soon he heard the piercing sound of a drawn dagger. Slowly, his head turned, burying his nose in the sand. His stiff neck did not want to move; it did not want to affirm what ran madly in his mind. But he forced himself to rest his other ear on the sand—his nose was beginning to sting. His eyes now knew the cause of the rustling sound of sand, as its grains were dug from their repose. His mouth fell open, letting out a muted scream.

The dagger that the captain feared was drawn was now stuck in his throat, shoved by skillful hands whose owner got up from being buried in the sand. Still holding his shield above his head, Shinn pulled out the dagger, hooking in its jagged edges pieces of the man's shredded tongue, and plunged it into the neck of a Lunian soldier. Like ghosts rising from the remains of the dead, thousands of Zaft soldiers rose from being buried in the sand—just like Shinn was—all in full armor, carrying their shields over their heads as their swords beheaded ever Lunian and Miyercurian in sight.

o+

"When I send you back to your tents, none of you are to fall asleep. All of you will clad yourselves in armor and muster your swords and shields. Dig a burrow big enough for you to fit through, in a spot just before the tent's edges. You will have one hour to do all of this, for after that, all of your lamps are to be turned off. Not a single light is to be left open, except for the lights at the sentinel's outposts. The enemy knows we never turn off those. Sink yourselves into the burrow and make a tunnel out of it so that it exits to the other side, a foot or so from your tents. The tunnel need not be deep, just enough for you to get out without your backs being seen. Before you leave, cover the hole you made with your blankets. When the enemy comes searching for you in your tents, they must find no trace of your exit. You have a full hour. Take advantage of the dark; they will not see you doing all of this. That said, do all of this as quietly as you can. We must fool the enemy into thinking you are still sound asleep.

When you emerge from the tunnels, do so while keeping your shields over your heads. We can't have them seeing human heads sticking out of the sand. They won't pay much attention to the shields, thinking you've already left them there earlier. In an hour, the arrows will come. That will light up all of base camp. Any activity preceding the first launch of arrows would be seen. Make sure that you stay clear of the walking paths. All who are not soldiers will stay in the stables, and when they see the red and iron rust armors tearing away at the flaming tents, they shall release the horses. Without someone handling them, the horses' first instinct is to stay away from the fire. They will keep to the walking paths, where the enemy would be standing in their way. Most of them do not know how to escape a rampaging horse, and would therefore get run over. As soon as you sense that the horses have completely left, you may rise to the offensive, killing whoever is left of their army. But keep your shields over your heads, just in case more of their arrows come. Lunian archers are extremely accurate. They can aim a good hit at you, even when you're running."

Not water but blood doused the pulsing flames, and not one space was untainted with it. Temples that once housed proud, resilient spirits were reduced to sinewy mush encased in crushed metal. The skin that once covered their hearts now touched the skin on their backs, remains of their obliterated hearts pushing through the gory mass. Their blood was mixed with the sand they were half-buried in, forming a sticky pool gluing half-torn necks and mashed bones in their new placements. Though most of their faces were completely crushed, one could still discern the petrified look in them, deformed yet preserved until the earth reduces them to dust. There was so much blood, it made pools around the survivors' feet.

War, perhaps the world's most powerful artist has conjured another masterpiece yet again. There was more to come, for the paint by which his creations have come to life has not yet run out.

o+

The originally 12, 000-man alliance that had attacked Zaft's base camp that night was now reduced to half that size. After his sword slid through the arm of one Miyercurian, Yzak struck his weapon to the groin of one unlucky adversary and pulled it as shredded pieces whatever hung there stuck on the gleaming bloody blade. The clothes beneath his armor completely drenched in blood, he stood face to face with Miyercuria's king, also a bloody mess.

What followed was an ear-splitting struggle of two massive, flashing swords. Both men were excellent warriors, none of them getting the upper hand with sword or shield. Realizing this, and in his perverted desire to face Zaft's Commander, King Nerod concluded this must end immediately.

_The weakest spot lies in his helmet_, he thought. _Right at the bastard's face!_

With that in mind, the king hooked his shield in one arm and rushed at Yzak, aiming for the young man's side. Yzak blocked this attack with his shield, and taking advantage of the small distance separating them, he aimed his sword at the king's neck. Just before he could end the king's gluttonous life, the king was able to take out a dagger, one that craftily sliced across Yzak's face.

The old fat king was able to duck promptly before the sword could cut him in two. Clutching his bleeding face and blinded by both blood and sheer fury, Yzak broke into successive strikes, each faster and stronger than before. There was no way the obese, aged king could cope. He fell to his bottom and at the sight of Yzak's blade closing in on him, he got up to his knees and begged the young lieutenant to have him spared.

Yzak stopped, lowered his sword and shield, and approached the king. Nerod's grim face lit up, thankful to be spared, and thankful for the chance to deliver another sneak attack.

But Yzak wasn't about to be tricked again. Before the king's right arm could puncture Yzak's leg with another dagger, Yzak was able to cut through the socket that linked Nerod's right thigh and hip. His huge frame sank to the ground in one mighty thud, echoing with the hellish pain. Not satisfied with the inhuman agony he had dealt him, Yzak grabbed the mortified, mutilated king by the neckline of his armor, dragged him violently across the searing sands before he threw the screaming heap into one of the burning tents. The half-burned posts gave way to the weight, right before the Miyercurian let out his final scream. Only seconds later, a subordinate came to assist Yzak, pulling him into one of the stables where Luna was getting ready to perform surgery.

o+

"Don't bother setting the arrows on fire; aim immediately at the Zaft soldiers! Make haste, men!"

Lt. Ades furiously delivered orders to the archers, whose arrows now sought to pierce the legs and ankles of Zaft soldiers, the only body parts vulnerable to an attack from their position. These men were good archers, but whoever said targeting legs and ankles—_moving­­ ­_legs and ankles—was easy should try doing it himself. Many of the arrows kept missing, and even more got stuck on Zaft's shields. But because Zaft soldiers were busy shielding themselves against Lunian arrows, they moved slowly, giving enough time for the outnumbered Lunians to strike back. Somehow, the archers' offensive did help, and this was why Ades did not lose faith.

Yet this small success would be trampled on ruthlessly as well. 500 feet behind them, from either side of the rock hill arch, was Zaft's archery battalion, a special pack of a thousand elite archers, all with flaming arrows ready to launch an assault against their panicked enemy.

Standing on top of a hill set in the western part of the hill arch along with half of the battalion he commanded was Nicol. The other half of his battalion was on the other side. Living true to Zaft's motto of never striking behind an opponent's back, Nicol sounded the battle horn.

All eyes from Archers' Rock turned half-circle, seeing two sets of arrows pointing at their faces, one set from the left and another from the right. At a given signal, these arrows were released, their paths converging at Archers' Rock, piercing every Lunian it can. Ades had no choice; these men could not aim in front and behind them at the same time. They could only take aim behind something.

At the foot of Archers' Rock stood a line of boulders set in their place since before the city was built. With bitter resolve, Ades sent the archers to run down the slope and assume position behind the first boulder that they can come close to. Dozens of archers were shot on their way down. One by one, bodies collapsed, rolled down the hills jagged slopes, and piled up behind the boulders. Those who did survive to reach the foot of the hill aimed at the Zaft soldiers still in their unceasing assault against them. Seeing this, Nicol blew another time at his horn, telling Zaft's soldiers that it was finally safe to take off the shields from their heads. Now ridden off the one thing that impeded their offensive, Zaft took the upper hand, killing one enemy soldier after another.

o+

Silence. There was no more silence. Clashing swords in front of him, whizzing arrows behind… but there was still silence for the Lunian king. He stood on top of Archer's Rock, unmindful of Lt. Ades' cries for him to descend. His once bold steel eyes had submitted to weariness, his heart to hopelessness, his ears to silence. His mind could no longer process what happened before him, the sound merging into a senseless mural, neutralizing all vibrations, and the final product is…

Silence.

Deafening silence. Blinding silence. Murderous silence.

King Aiman's body soon lost all strength, as if whatever kept it standing and fighting had left its shell, scared away by the failure that awaited him. His knees turned to slush, causing his body to tip over, slowly… perilously… Archer's Rock was a vertical rock face on one side, no better than a cliff.

Slowly, his body tipped, ready to fall. He was a failure, a disappointment to his lineage, to his country, and to his men. He was so helpless he sank low enough to obey the whims of a lady—whom he believed was a worthless concubine—and to cut a deal with one of the most spineless animals in the world. He was foolish enough to lead his men to battle this way—a path of shame and defeat.

_Now they are shamed, and even worse, they die in shame… all because of my weakness. _

Lunius' king was young, not more than five years older than Athrun. Yet he felt the years wither away in his soul. Time was up for him.

_Pathetic. How pathetic._

He closed his eyes, whose sorrow could no longer be hidden. His face was wet with tears, frustration and death.

_Forgive me, everyone. _

Then he let gravity take over. _No man will suffer by my command anymore_, he thought. _I am relieved of that responsibility. Yes, an incompetent, foolish, undeserving man like me is no longer king. I'm so tired. So tired of being king. Let Zaft have the land it desires. Perhaps they can run it better than I can. _

"What do you think you're doing?"

Miguel looked up, seeing Ades' hand holding onto his arm. Somehow, the old lieutenant was able to reach the top of Archers' Rock, despite the whizzing arrows along the way and the arrow sticking out from his back

"What do _you_ think you're doing?" Miguel spat. "Can't you see? It's all over. There's nothing I can do. Whether I live or die, we lose! I can't stand this humiliation any longer. I give up! Yes, Fredrik, the king you believed had a heart of steel had just given up. Now let go. Let go!"

Miguel pulled away harder, his body that was once lenient against the forces of the earth now fought vehemently against the lieutenant's grasp. Within those wide, darkening sockets were reddened eyes, mad orbs of sheer insanity. They looked even bigger in his thinning, pallid face.

Sad eyes spoke through the lieutenant's lips, "Think about the soldiers. They're fighting, dying for what they believe must be protected—for what _you_ believed must be protected."

"That's the point! They'll all die. We all will. It's useless, all useless. What's the point of fighting? What's the point of living to see everything you've worked so hard for go up in flames? They'll kill us all. Zaft knows no mercy; we'll all be dead by sunrise. Look at yourself. Will you live through _that?_ That hideous, reeking wound of yours? No you won't. You'll die along with everyone else, with me, with everybody! So why fight?"

The king's words were taunting, and, to a point, insulting. To an even higher point, they were pitiful. He was an empty shell of what he used to be—the proud warrior of the red desert race. Lt. Ades had knows this man for more than half his life. Miguel Aiman grew up right before his eyes. He believed he had seen both the best and worst of Miguel, but now he had realized how he had not even scratched the crust of his true grievances, and how Lunius' lord just wanted to give way under the straining weight of being king.

In front of his eyes, the young man he loved as much as he would his own son fell apart like an abandoned puppet.

"Do you have any idea how hard it was for me to keep up the image of being king? Excruciating! A thousand deaths would have been better. Do you have the slightest clue of how hard it is to deal with this city's problems—a starving, unsatisfied people's problems? How about dealing with Miyercuria's brainless king, or Lunius' even sillier ministers? The throne of a useless, powerless king? I'm sick and tired of it!"

"We all believed you were strong. We kept faith in you, ever since the beginning."

"I'm sick of being strong! I'm sick of being strong for you! Don't you get it? You've been fools, fools who believed in a worthless man like me! False hope, that's all you had. Brainwashed puppets mesmerized by a golden throne, hypnotized by a powerless man's flowery words. Can't take it, can you? Is it so hard to stomach that you've been fooled?"

Then he divulged himself into a crazed fit of laughter.

"Haha, fools!"

But Ades would not falter. There had to be something still left in this man, something to help them live through this night.

"Whatever happened… to the proud king who said he would do anything to save his city?"

"Well… how… nice of you to remind me!" the king broke through his fit. "Yes, that is something I still hold on to. My pride, how can I forget? Ha, what makes you think I'd give that up for you? Congratulations, you've been fooled again! Aw… what's with the long face? Scared to die now? Don't worry, we'll all die together. I have no plans of escaping death. At least I'll die with my pride."

"_This_ is dying with pride?" Ades struggled as blood trickled down his armor, and seeped into the coarse soil. "Your name will be remembered in shame!"

"At least I'll be dead by then! Don't you see? I cannot live seeing my city in foreign hands, or seeing myself as a slave to a foreign king. I am a man, Fredrik, willing to take only so much humiliation in a lifetime. I have done too much, conceding to the wishes of a prostitute and allying our forces with a brute of a king—I cannot live through any of this. I have had enough, Fredrik, enough of this life. This foolish, worthless, incompetent life of a king!

"I'm so tired," he finished wearily, torn apart. "Too tired to fight. Just… let me die. I deserve such a pathetic death anyway."

Beneath them, Miyercurians, not knowing their king had been thrown to the fire, still fought in his name—or at least some did—but more so for their lives. Lunians seemed to do the same. In their eyes, the foreboded threat of defeat was clear. _At least we'll die by the sword_, they thought. _We'll die knowing we tried to defend our homeland, our families and fellowmen…_

_Our king. _

"Don't you think there is more pride in dying by the sword, than in dying by falling off a precipice?" Ades asked. "Your men still believe in you. At least return their good faith. Fight."

"You'd need to. Do you think you'd get away with all of this so easily?"

The voice was cool, stale and piercing. The two Lunians had never heard it before, but his emblazoned armor gave him away. The armored lad took out his weapon, a gleaming, sharpened silver blade. He approached the tongue-tied king.

Athrun had heard the entire conversation. He would have had it go on, but it was costing him more of his men. Lunian soldiers, though desperate, fought incredibly. Many Zaft soldiers had fallen. This had to reach a conclusion.

Without another word, he took larger strides, gaining momentum to strike the king's heart. Miguel could only stare at his Maker, Zaft's paragon of military superiority. The king could not help but admire the man, whose eyes did not betray him with any signs of pity or remorse. They seemed to be full of a strange resolve that drove all good kings in battle.

_The desire to protect his men_, Miguel thought, kneeling, preparing to die. _And the ability to do it. Be thankful, Fredrik, at least I'll die by this man's sword._

But Athrun's sword met no flesh. What it met was Lt. Ades' sword, smeared not in the blood of anyone else's but his own. His wound had gotten deeper, bleeding profusely. With one powerful heave, he shoved off Athrun's sword, posing to defend his king. He sent one strike flying after another, in a determined resolve to protect his lord.

"I… will… not let you… kill him… We look up to him for strength… hope… the very bastion of our faith… he keeps us going… just by his presence. Even if I am wiped off the face… of this earth… I will do everything it takes to take you down… if that is what it takes to bring back his lost faith in himself!"

Upon the note of his last word, Ades fell to his knees, drained of the strength to stand his ground. _What makes you think an old, wounded soldier like you can put up a fight with me? You can barely stand up,_ Athrun thought. The lieutenant must know this, and yet his eyes still looked fiercely into the Zaft Commander's shadowy face obscured in his iron helmet.

_I am about to kill your most loyal man, perhaps, even your closest friend. Aren't you going to stop me? _

Miguel just stood there with bleak eyes.

_Do something. Say anything. Fight. _

Athrun's lips were sealed, but the king seemed to hear the king's words. Awakened by his lieutenant's conviction, he took out his sword and started a clash of metal and metal wanting of a victor. Neither of them had the advantage, until one of them sent the other weapon flying into the air and plunging into the sand.

The Lunian king fought well, but Athrun, the younger yet more experienced fighter, was able to disarm him. The force was so strong it sent Miguel sitting on all fours. Zaft's gleaming blade now pointed at the king's unprotected neck, threatening to tear it off.

"Kill me."

Athrun gave no answer. He stood there, thinking of what should be done next.

"I am completely unarmed. What are you waiting for? Kill me!"

Still, Athrun spoke of nothing.

"You have proven yourself the stronger man. Perhaps you deserve lordship over Lunius."

Ades looked at his king, clutching his bleeding chest. Miguel's eyes were pensive now, gazing at the grand armor of Zaft's man of war.

"But as I acknowledge your superiority over me, grant me the honor of dying by your sword, and spare me the pain of seeing my city go into your hands."

Miguel still felt the cold blade on his neck. The sensation was faint. It barely touched him, but it felt like being thrown into a burning pit.

"Is it not enough for you to see me in this misery?" Miguel shouted at the blank face before him. "Kill me!"

"No."

The response came as cold as his blade still touching the king's neck.

"I have an offer you might want to consider."

Miguel and Ades blinked. They were not expecting this.

"Absurd," Ades choked. "Zaft knows no compromise. Do not believe him!"

"I do not back down on my word, King Aiman," Athrun continued. "It is up to you if you want to consider it. Surrender and I will tell my army to lower their arms, as your men will. That is my bargain. What say you?"

Miguel could not believe his ears.

_There must be some catch, _the lieutenant thought. _Zaft's already winning. Why ask us to surrender when they can obliterate us anyway?_

The Commander was getting impatient for Miguel's answer. The Lunian king seemed a total wreck, his mind swimming in a slush of guilt and frustration. Had it not been for the lieutenant's firm belief in this man's strength, Athrun would have killed him.

"Don't follow the Heliopolian king's example. That's how he died."

Finally, Miguel spoke, "Do you pity me? Is that why you offer me this?"

What seemed like a black hole within his helmet's cavity did not utter a word.

"I've already sunk myself low enough. I won't take your pity to spare my life. I will die, but at least with the honor of knowing I stood my ground to the very end. Kill me, and my men will stop fighting, knowing that there superior is dead."

Below them, the Lunian archery battalion had been reduced to less than a hundred, the survivors side by side with fallen comrades, tears and blood fogging their vision. One of their arrows successfully impaled one Zaft archer, sending his body rolling down the slopes. Athrun sighed.

"Tell me, are you fighting for your city, or are you fighting for your pride?"

Neither Lunian could absorb these words that time. "Rhetoric doesn't suit you, Commander," Ades bit his lips.

"Heliopolis' king went crazy. Even his men believed that. It was best to kill him—better rid the world of a pompous king than let it endure the presence of one."

"Does it matter if you killed Azrael for whim or for whatnot?" Miguel muttered angrily.

"Yes. Because I killed him knowing Heliopolis was better off without him. Do you think the same applies to you? A man like him," Athrun jerked his head to point to Ades, "is willing to throw away his life for you. There has to be some rational basis for that. I don't believe that kind of loyalty can be inherited. You must be a man of honor."

Miguel's ears flooded with the words. _A man of honor…_

The Commander was praising him.

"And if all your men are willing to follow you to war in this way, hanging by your word that this will lead them to victory, then they must believe the same. Do you really think they would lower their arms if you died, if _I _killed you?"

_This man,_ Miguel thought.

_Is this how good kings should be?_

"If I slashed you in half right now, your lieutenant would come running for my head, even if he knows he doesn't stand a chance. So will the rest of your army. They will not yield to us, thinking they are fighting for a martyred king. They will continue to fight, until we kill off the very last one. Do you want your men to suffer that?"

Silence, in this case, meant to negate.

"Only your word can make them yield without bloodshed. Surrender maybe the coward's best option, but isn't there more honor in saving lives than in playing stubborn? Don't you think…

"It takes true courage to lower one's arms and concede? You maybe branded as cowards for the rest of your lives, but you will win the lives of your men. Your answer will determine your men's fate. Will you surrender or not?"

What ensued was another stupefying silence. But this was placid, pensive, a stark contrast from the chaos below. At some point, Miguel motioned to disturb it.

"Why do you do this? Why spare us?"

It was selfish, consuming, and often destructive. It wielded its power while it could, costing the king his men's lives.

"Because I do not see the point of killing all these men because of something as vain as pride."

It took a while before Miguel got up and furnished his battle horn. Lunius had won several battles upon its signal, but tonight, he chose not to use it, thinking it would stir Zaft from its slumber.

Three long horn blows reverberated across the desert. They were long and melancholic, exhausted, and yet in a strange sense…

Contented.

"It takes a lot of courage to hold up a sword and fight, but it takes even more to lower it and surrender. Maybe there is more honor in that. If it takes a coward to save my city…

"I'll be one."

Athrun lowered his sword, sheathed it, and breathed a sigh of relief. His task for Lunius and Miyercuria was done.

_Not to break your happy moment_, he started, noticing how the former king motioned to aid his wounded lieutenant. "This means that you have surrendered sovereignty to Zaft's king."

"That should have been clear to all of us now," Miguel replied. "But promise me this."

Athrun listened intently, keeping an eye on his wearied soldiers below. Many of them were injured.

"I have surrendered in good faith that Lunius would be ruled well, sensing that a man who spoke so well of honor would be honorable himself. I trust that I have not been wronged."

Athrun approached Miguel for a handshake. "That is something we guarantee all our people."

It wasn't so dark anymore, and at this distance, Miguel could see the face of his oppressor more clearly. It was then that he realized.

"Zaft's king is truly a man of honor," Fredrik said weakly as they both watched Athrun descend the rocky slope.

"That was not Zaft's king."

Miguel's oppressor was much younger than he was, and the young man's forehead only touched his chin.

"That was his son, Athrun Zala."

o+

Meanwhile, Shinn, who had just unsheathed his sword, met Athrun.

"We've lost quite a few today, right, Ensign?"

"Yes, Sir," Shinn answered. "But we would have lost more had it not been for the little hint I gave you."

Shinn had abandoned the mission of giving the Lunians Athrun's message when he learned that Lunius had conceded to form an alliance with Miyercuria. This he immediately reported to Athrun, who sent Nicol and the archery battalion to the ends of the hill arch just before the two cities could set up at Archer's Rock. Come of think of it, things would have gone differently had it not been for Shinn's warning.

"You should really start thinking less of yourself and more of your men," Athrun scolded him. "Don't get too full of yourself just because you got to give me a little tip."

Shinn huffed, "The least you can say is thank you."

"By the way, thanks for the tip, anyway."

"What a joke. How sincere," the ensign frowned. But watching his superior walk away, he noticed something was _dead_ wrong.

"Commander, are you bleeding?"

_Damn it,_ Athrun mumbled. _He noticed. _"It does not cause you great trouble if I am. This… is… just… a little… s..c..ra…"

"Commander, let me warn you, Miyercurian arrows are usually poiso…"

Cut by the Commander's body sinking to the ground, Shinn took to his heels along with dozens of other soldiers, all crowding the fallen Commander.

"He's been hit by a poisoned arrow! Get him to the medics, quick!"

It was all a blur to him now. The last thing he could sense was the faint light of dawn, slowly blotted out by the darkness.

That took me a month to type. I know it's long. As an afterthought, do you think people like Athrun, Miguel, and Fredrik still exist? Please answer this question in a review, if you will. Thanks so much for all the reviews in chaps 14 and 15, they make me feel loved. And that is essential. So Read and Review please! See ya…


	17. Steady Hands

Definition of Terms:

Prenote: stuff I put at the beginning of every chap. Normally includes rants, raves, mindless ramble, reminders, and a statement saying "Enjoy".

Postnote: stuff I put at the end of every chap. Normally includes rants, raves, mindless ramble, reminders, and a request—no a DEMAND—for a review.

This is not one of my typical prenotes.

Athrun: Ow…

Me: sorry again, Athrun, you need to be shot by a poisoned arrow.

Athrun: Why me? Why not Shinn?

Me: because I WANT TO.

Athrun : Evil….

Me: no I'm not. Besides, you get to be treated by Cagalli.

Athrun: Really? Keep the arrows coming! come on!

Me: sheesh, you're ruining the decent image I gave you. Ok, forget the arrow.

Athrun: what? No!!!!

Me: kidding… (lets Athrun be shot by the arrow again, and watches contentedly as he plummets to the ground)

As a final warning before you read this, stuff I put in here was completely extracted from my brain and was not based on anything medically legal or practicable. That said, DO NOT EVEN THINK OF TRYING ANY OF THE MEDICAL STUFF CAGALI'S GONNA DO ON ATHRUN, OR ANY OF THE OTHER MEDICAL SOUNDING STUFF IN THIS FIC. I don't want people running after me with an arrest warrant for misleading people into their uhm.. you know what. SO DON'T TRY THIS AT HOME! PLEASE!

Nevertheless, enjoy :-)

Disclaimer: The author of this fic does not own gundam seed/destiny, or its characters, because if I claimed I did, would delete my story—wouldn't it?—and the copyright people will sue me. Any similarities from other fics are purely coincidental, and so are any allusions to real events, places and people.

ooooo

Chap 17: Steady Hands

Dawn. Normally, the sun's rosy appendages pressed on the soldiers' cheeks to awaken them, slender, jeweled fingers glowing on the morning dew dotting the leaves grown on the scant desert vegetation. The flames of the evening's ordeal still crackled across base camp, as buckets of water killed the heat that fed them. The men kept to their task of dousing the remnants of the fire and salvaging what they could out of the wreckage, lest they heard a voice's ostensible trepidation, scooping their attention towards the message it brought.

"All of you, out of my way!"

Carrying the unconscious Commander in his arms, Dearka sped through the files of soldiers crowding at what seemed terribly wrong. Heine and Shinn followed close behind, pushing through the men's shocked and worried faces. Bodies fallen in the ambush still carpeted the walking paths, and the ringing sound of their wooden soles beating on the deceased's armor seemed to emulsify the situation's graveness. The sound of crackling flames and clanging armor, the stench of burning bodies and the thundering murmurs of the soldiers sent two eyes flinging to action.

"I can walk by myself, thank you," Athrun mumbled as he struggled out of Dearka's arms. He tried to stand, but his legs couldn't take the weight of his heavyset armor. Before he could fall again, Dearka was able to catch him.

"Do not play tough now," Dearka whispered. "You can't even stand up. At least let us drag you by the shoulder if you don't want us to carry you." This was Heine's cue to pick up Athrun's other shoulder, and off they rushed to one of the stables where they hoped Luna knew how to treat Miyercurian poison.

o+

Meanwhile, her heart thumped madly as her steady hands held the needle, one that would sink into human tissue, thread through the fine skin covering the forehead, slither carefully around the eye, cross the nose bridge and patch away at the torn flesh on his right cheek. The sweat teeming from her brow, Luna prepared to run her surgical weapon on Yzak's laceration. Not a single word echoed in the four walls of their makeshift hospital ward, focus the primary tool the head doctor needed. No one in base camp had the same skill in this as she did, and she was the only one who could pull off this kind of surgery.

o+

"We have a problem, Sir," Nicol rushed to Dearka. He had just gotten back from the hill arch when he learned that Athrun had been severely injured. "Dr. Hawke's already busy performing surgery. She cannot leave and risk infectio…"

"We cannot risk the Commander's life any further, either!" Dearka blew, laying Athrun on a mat laid on the floor—a makeshift hospital bed—the eyes of stunned soldiers glued to their injured leader.

"Who… is it?"

Gags precluded each word strenuously, but he managed to get them out. Breathing was getting hard for him.

"Lt. Joule, Sir," was Nicol's reply. "Slashed across the face. Dr. Hawke is performing surgery right now. Her sister says it might take 40 minutes…"

"40? We don't have that much time! By then, the poison would have gotten through his entire body," Dearka exploded into a fit of panic.

Seeing Dearka overcome with anxiety, Heine took it as his task to find better options. "Captain, do you know of anyone who knows how to deal with this?"

"I'm sorry Lieutenant, but…"

"I do."

Out of the dark curtains behind them, her clothes stained with human blood, she sat beside the paralyzed Athrun, checking his vital signs to determine which poison had disabled him.

"The Nessus. I thought so. Meyrin, take these things out of the storage room, and bring me a bowl of water, a couple of damp towels, some ice, and your sister's acupuncture set…"

Then she told the younger girl what they needed for the antidote.

"Hurry, before he loses consciousness again. He needs to be awake during the entire operation."

The three subordinates exchanged questioning looks, somewhat to ask, "How does she know all of this?" They watched her wash her hands and prepare the tools she would need, which included a set of acupuncture needles, the shortest being five inches long.

"I don't know how you wear your armor."

The four subordinates, now joined by Shinn, stood silent, not knowing how to respond.

"What are you waiting for? How am I supposed to treat him with his armor on?"

"Oh yes, of course," Nicol broke, approaching Athrun. "Not to disrespect Sir, but I must take off your…"

"Cut… the formalities, Nicol," Athrun struggled, losing breath every time he spoke. "Just do… what she tells you."

Starting off with his grand iron helmet, Shinn and Nicol began to assist their Commander in removing his armor.

"He runs around in this?" Shinn mumbled, straining under the heavy metal exclusively worn by their leader. "No wonder he got shot."

"The armor saved his life, Ensign," the lady medic interjected, taking a syringe and filling it with a red viscous liquid she had been preparing. "It was strong enough to catch the arrow's blade. Had it not been for that, the arrow would have gone straight through his heart. For how long had he been shot?"

"At least… half an hour…" Athrun replied.

"We have to hurry. I have another half hour to neutralize the poison before your entire system consumes it. And whatever happens, do not even think of falling…"

The sounds around him made no sense. His ears felt clogged, the words befalling them muted with only strange, surreal murmurs making it through. His head felt light as a paralyzing cold grasped his entire body, numbing him from worldly sensation. His body was conceding to the poison's depressing effect.

That was until a sprinkle of warm water and successive, slightly painful slaps showered his face.

"What did you do that for?" Shinn complained.

"Commander, I told you not to fall asleep," she whispered firmly, leaning closer so that Athrun could hear her better. This close, he could smell the scent of mixed sweat and blood, masking the soft scent of white lilies. It was one of the few things he could make out of his abstracted world, and, somehow, the soft scent of what her mother used as perfume when she was alive woke him up. He had not known until now who the lady treating him was—her face was a complete blur, her voice deformed by the clogging in his hearing. The scent of white lilies cleared his mind. A little, at least.

"Cagalli?"

She pressed her ear close to his heart, sensing a slow and faint heartbeat.

"Damn, it's too slow," she muttered. She then asked Meyrin to hand over the needles, which had been dipped in a special kind of oil.

"I hope you have a high tolerance for pain," Cagalli warned him. "These needles hurt."

"Use anesthesia, then," Shinn interposed, his eyes following the long, pointed needle in Cagalli's hand.

"I can't. The medication I am about to give him must meet interference with as little other medication as possible. The amount of anesthesia he'll need to be numbed from the pain will be enough to put him to sleep."

"What's wrong with falling asleep, anyway?"

Cagalli no longer wished to answer Shinn's questions. "When poisoned with the Nessus, the whole point is not to fall asleep," Meyrin, in her stead, explained. "The Nessus is a wild flower grown only in these sands. It's perfectly harmless unless ground to exude the extract. That's what they put on the arrows."

"It slows.. the heartbeat down, right?" Athrun cut them weakly. He hoped thinking would keep him awake.

"Interesting how you can still evaluate the situation," Cagalli remarked. "The Nessus takes effect once a single drop of it has been absorbed into the bloodstream, gradually slowing down the heartbeat, and eventually the entire circulatory system. Then the victim would start feeling dizzy. Soon, the heart will beat too slowly and too faintly. The brain won't receive enough oxygen. Then, the victim dies. Sleeping will only slow the heart further."

The four subordinates stood quietly, all with troubled eyes staring at their leader, whose vision seemed to be unmovable from the stable's ceiling. The two younger ones had finished stripping Athrun of his armor, leaving him dressed only in his trousers. Fine purplish-black webs stretched as intricately lethal marks on his skin. Athrun had already pulled out the arrow, leaving a little hole in his breastplate, and a 1-inch-deep wound burrowed in his chest. He had scarcely lost blood—what really imperiled his life was the poison. Meyrin attended to the wound, the blood on it dried and crusted as Cagalli flicked the excess oil off the needles. Shinn took momentary glances at the needles, before refocusing his eyes on the Commander.

"I didn't know you were scared of needles, Ensign."

Though heavily disabled, Athrun's voice still carried the military firmness it did, though this time, it meant sarcasm.

"What?" Shinn burst, Nicol having to restrain him. "I am not scared of needles."

"I should tell Dr. Hawke to give you a vaccine shot some time to test that theory," Athrun grinned.

"Why you…"

"I can't believe you still have the strength to tease him," Dearka chuckled.

"Annoying him might help keep me awake." Athrun faced the two lieutenants present. "The both of you, go to your men and see to their needs. I want a full report by the time this operation's finished. Nicol, go to Dr. Hawke and see how Yzak's doing. As for you Ensign…"

"Stay here and keep us company," Cagalli finished.

Shinn snorted in annoyance, but complied anyway, fearing his Commander may not live to see the next sunset. The three other subordinates did as they were bid to do, the short piece of comic relief putting a smile on their weary faces.

"Get ready, we'll be proceeding in around a minute," Cagalli told Athrun, before positioning herself, needle in one hand, the other applying pressure above the blackened veins close to his heart.

Athrun cringed. The soft pressure applied on his vessels, though small, was painful to bear.

"One reason I didn't give you anesthesia was for the pain to keep you awake. Bear with it for a while. Shinn, if he jerks from the pain, hold him steady. I need to be very accurate in this. If I apply acupuncture wrongly, I might kill him."

Shinn nodded. "You better know what you're doing."

Cagalli took no heed and faced the Commander. "Commander, do you trust me?"

_It's not good to pressure people in this kind of situation_, he thought. Nevertheless, he could think of no better response. "Yes."

"With your life?"

He nodded. "I don't have a choice, do I?"

"There's a hint of irresolution in your tone," she replied, taking a deep breath to steady herself. "At the back of your mind, I know you're thinking I might fail and you might not live through this."

Athrun sighed. "You're right."

"If I fail, you can have me beheaded. Shinn, Meyrin, you're witnesses to this oath."

His drooping eyes flew open upon hearing the bargain.

"It's your assurance that I won't fail. That's enough, right?"

_Pressuring people is not good_, he resented. _Especially when one wrong move can get me killed!_

"Pressure is good, Commander."

The needle in her hand began to sink slowly into his vein, bringing a sharp pain rushing to his spine. Athrun knew he must not move lest he wanted to die, so he clenched his fists and gritted his teeth, controlling the urge to react.

"The consequences will keep my hand steady. You have to put all your faith in me Commander. I can't have you lose yourself to poison or to helplessness."

o+

"Meyrin, put this balm on his forehead. The poison might be making him feel a little light in the head; this will warm him."

Meyrin blushed at the thought of being this physically close to the Commander, but Athrun's mind was off to other things. He recalled how the Miyercurian king lived his last moments the way he had led his life—being a gluttonous animal. Nerod had shot him when he set out to climb Archer's Rock, seeking to speak with Miguel up at its peak.

o+

A swarm of arrows whizzed overhead. Lt. Ades had been shot with a Zaft arrow, the blood trickling down the rock, slithering down Athrun's hands. Soon, the Lunian archers noticed this.

"A Zaft soldier's climbing up the hill. Aim and kill him before he gets to the king!"

At the signal of this bellow, dozens of archers turned backward and aimed at Athrun, risking their lives as their backs faced the enemy. Arrows showered Athrun, all launched to impale him. Instead of meeting his armor, most of the arrows only got trapped in their target's shield. The shield leaned on the left side of the body, where the archers were. His right side was completely vulnerable to attack.

_I have to get to the top immediately, before someone from the archers runs to the other side and hits me from be… _

Too late. Leaning on one of the rocks, he clutched the arrow now sticking off his right breastplate. He searched the foot of the hill for the man who shot him, finding the Miyercurian king, charred skin and all. Somehow, he was able to crawl to the foot of Archer's Rock, spotting Athrun climbing with one side vulnerable and aiming a shot with a bow he found in the hands of a dead archer. He had not hit the spot he had hoped—the heart—but considering the fact that one of his legs had been sliced off, his aim was extraordinary.

This was, for the old, expiring king, his victory—one he celebrated with a draining manhole of twisted happiness.

"You are no god," he jeered. "You are just like all of us… vulnerable! The Nessus' venom will defeat you, destroy you! And me? Not the flames, not that moron's sword, not you, not anyone can destroy me! I am invincible, invincible, invincib…"

And off went his head, that pungent mass of deformed flesh, where the skin was burned off and the human features had melted into the effigy of the devil himself. The fat and stinking oil from the decapitated king's neck dripped from his killer's blade, mixed with blood.

"He's dead," Shinn called out. "Are you alright?"

Looking at the arrow he had pulled out of his chest, Athrun felt a sudden pang drilling through the wound the arrow bore and vibrating through his body. The pang, sudden and chilling, made him feel nauseous. He got shot by arrows often, and most only got caught in his armor, touching only as far as at most an inch into his skin. But this was different.

_It feels like poison…_

He took off the hooks that kept that part of the armor in place and pressed a piece of cloth on the wound to impede the bleeding. Minutes later, the bleeding seemed minimal enough.

"Are you hurt, Sir?"

"No, I'm fine," Athrun responded, standing up. "Get back to your men."

He looked back, scanning the carnage that surrounded him. _This needs to be stopped_, he thought. _Too many of Zaft's men are dying. I need to get to the Lunian king. _

_This is just a scratch. Nothing I can't handle. _

o+

To Cagalli's surprise, Athrun was taking the operation well. There was little need to restrain his movements; he jerked every now and then, but soon after he'd assume his former position, ready for the next needle to be pierced into his skin.

_He must be used to pain, but even this should be unbearable,_ she thought. The pain inflicted with this kind of treatment, Luna told her once, was worse than amputation. How he puts up with it remained a mystery to her.

"Meyrin, the syringe I was preparing earlier."

Hesitantly, Meyrin handed her the syringe.

"Cagalli," she whispered. "Maybe there's something else we could give him. Don't you think a pacer's a bit too much?"

Upon hearing this, Shinn asked, "What's a pacer?"

"A pacer speeds up the heartbeat, allowing the blood to circulate faster in a person's system," Meyrin explained. "The point is to speed the blood's circulation so that the poison mixed with blood would move at a rate where the cells cannot absorb them. By now, the poison must have spread through every vein of his body, but most of it should still be in big blobs floating in the bloodstream. That's where the antidote comes in, found in the oil I dipped the needles in earlier. As the blood cascades along the needles' sides, the antidote mixes itself with the Nessus extract it can come in contact with, forming a viscous substance which can later be squeezed out once the needles are removed. Without the pacer, this won't happen at a pace that will counter the poison effectively."

Holding the syringe poised to prick a major artery on Athrun's forearm, Cagalli took a deep breath. She would not deny the responsibility was nerve-wracking.

"Pressure is good, eh?" he teased.

"Now's not a good time to be making jokes, Commander," she muttered. The past night had been quite demanding. How long has it been since she started? An hour? Two? She had lost track. All that echoed on the wooden walls were the sounds of cartwheels carrying supplies and injured soldiers, boots beating the ground in the medics' hurry to treat the injured, boiling water to disinfect the tools, screams of men in agony of enduring burns, lacerations, and amputation, and drops of blood dripping on the white sheets. She was sure she had treated at least twenty men. The scent of burnt flesh, medication and blood were beginning to clog her mind. Soon, fatigue began to take effect, the hand holding the syringe beginning to shake.

Screams of agony flooded her ears. _Damn it, make them stop,_ _I can't concentrate._ But they won't, they couldn't. The pain they were made to endure was, as far as the living knew, just as bad as hell's punishment, tearing their own lungs as their limbs were dissevered from their joints.

And yet the man that lay before her made no such disturbances, clenching his fists and gritting his teeth. Even these things he did subtly. The pain he dealt with was just as bad as everyone else's, but he just lay there, trying to hold back the pain from making its presence felt.

"Are you trying to calm me down, by pretending it doesn't hurt?"she mumbled. It wasn't meant to be heard. The response was just as faint.

"Everyone's watching me, and so that everyone can worry about themselves, I need to pretend that everything's fine. Even if it isn't."

Sighing, she lifted the syringe off of Athrun's arm.

"The problem with using pacers is that it causes the heart to beat so fast, the body can't handle it. It increases the heart's pace limitlessly, until the one administering it applies pressure on a certain point in the patient's nape, placing the heart back to its original pace. If the pressure is not applied properly, or if applied too late, the patient will die from a heart attack.

"What worries us is that you might not be able to handle the pain. One side effect of the pacer is that it causes the blood vessels to bloat quickly to cope with the intensified blood pressure. The sensation… is no less than the feeling of being skinned alive."

She took one glance at another man, burned so badly that his face seemed to be slipping off his head. He had finally let out a final scream, the doctors covering his face and moving on to another patient. She turned her eyes away, back to Athrun. It was then that Athrun saw what she had been trying to conceal for the entire time.

Women, men believed, were more vulnerable to pain than men were.

Her eyes sank lower, trying to avoid his penetrating gaze, full of a strange sense of calmness, as if what surrounded him was merely a replay of some more horrific event. Her eyes ended up looking at his body. Though perfect in form, as dreamt by the world's most acclaimed artists, it was covered with unsightly scars. From them, one could guess he had been stabbed, slashed, shot, axed, speared and burned at least once in his lifetime. _This man has seen more bloodshed than most people would in their lifetimes,_ she thought. _Is that why he can stay so calm?_

A few feet from them, another man nearing his end was being treated. Both his legs had been cut off, and the infection had eaten through the remains, finally reaching the man's brain. Before he expired, he shot a glare at Cagalli, as if to say, "If that man dies in your hands, I will haunt you for the rest of your life!" Dozens of red, bulging eyes, all overwhelmed by pain, seemed to follow, burrowing into the girl's skin. The Commander's death would be hers as well, and they would see to it themselves. Cagalli did not know if she should look away, or look back to the glowing syringe now trembling in her hands.

The mutilated soldier let out one final breath in one blast of air. Her eyes closed, Cagalli told herself, _Don't give in. If this man dies, not one man in this place is going to forgive you. I can't let him die. I can do this. Everything was done properly. If I follow the steps up to the end without faltering, he should come out of this alive. I can do this. I can do this. _

She had been telling that to herself incessantly. But just as incessant were the sounds of war's horror discouraging her, blaming her for assuming a responsibility that was not hers. As her hand trembled, a few drops of the serum fell on Athrun's still outstretched arm.

Pacing away from the young man, she seemed to have admitted defeat. _I guess this task was too much for her_¸ Athrun thought.

_It's not good to pressure people. _

The world seemed to spin for him, but at least the pain he endured now was just a faint sensation. He tried to sit up, but couldn't even move his neck. The feeling of being paralyzed was something he rarely felt, and the feeling was never welcome. He wanted to remove the needles—ten or so were protruding from his torso—thinking they weren't of much use anyway. He would have called out to Cagalli to ask her to remove the needles, but seeing that she had fallen completely silent, he decided to let her be.

"No one's blaming you," he started weakly. Soon, he realized it was the needles that imposed their paralyzing effect on him. _Maybe I should give her a little consolidation for trying._ "But I feel much better now. I think I can stand up and make rounds."

Shinn figured out what his Commander wanted him to do. "I'll go to Dr. Hawke and ask if she can check on you later."

"Forget that."

Almost successful in his effort to sit up, Athrun fell again with Meyrin catching his back.

"Luna mustn't be disturbed in the middle of surgery, or at least for the next hour."

"An hour?" bellowed Shinn. "He'd be dead by then!"

"He won't. I won't let him." The same serum once again filled the syringe right up to the mark. "The dosage has to be accurate. I spilled a few drops so I did the measurement over. Meyrin, lay him back down very carefully."

Cagalli's hand had regained its steadiness, searching his arm for the artery where the pacer would be injected. Fear mingled in her eyes, but in them also, and more overpowering, was an undying flame that could not be put out. Adamant, persistent, and ever so stubborn eyes. Just like the lady who possessed them.

Voices of impaired soldiers still loaded her mind. _I need to shake this feeling off,_ she thought. She took deep lengthy breaths, the exercise her brother taught her every time she needed to calm down.

He watched the rising fabric covering her chest, with two buttons unfastened as the flesh that hung on it moved in sync with her lungs. Then the syringe finally settled above the point it was supposed to pierce. Once the pacer was injected to his system, his life would be a ticking bomb, and Cagalli's response would be key to his survival.

Every little touch hurt.

Every drop of sweat was cold, as if his body's heat was being vacuumed from within. This left his entire body deathly cold—the blood stale and frozen in its tracks—and stiff. Even unclenching his fists to relax them was a challenge. Every movement was painful. Any contact with anything was agonizing. His cooled blood was so cold it felt frosted in his veins, like thin, skewing sticks, pricking the flesh above it, flesh that felt like aged tree bark just waiting to be peeled off by the wind.

Nevertheless, he _was_ Athrun Zala. He wasn't to be intimidated by this pain. No, this was nothing to him. Since the operation began, that was what he was able to make himself believe, mitigating that puncturing sensation to little more than dainty pins grazing their little points on the walls of his veins. Nothing he couldn't handle.

But again, every little touch hurt. Even the slightest, smallest one. He had no other wounds save for that one piercing on his chest, yet he felt his entire body covered with minute lacerations. If he were to fall asleep, the pain would subside—he wouldn't feel it anymore.

Just as he was about to slip into sleep, the warmed tip of the syringe shook him. Dark lines were forming under her eyes. The night has been very cruel.

His voice, feeble and weak, mumbled, "You are not part of this war."

In that four-walled wooden cell, no one has heard his voice break this way. It was always strong and authoritative. There was no way he could pull off that act now.

Luckily, only Shinn, Meyrin, and Cagalli could witness this.

"This is too much to ask of you. You are not of the people I protect. You are in no obligation to help me. Why, then, do you do this?"

Outside, the sun had reared its head above the horizon, illuminating the land. The black remains of base camp were now distinguishable from the pale sands meshed with a hue of bluish purple.

"Do you need to be obligated to someone to help him?"

"No…"

"Then that should answer your question."

Together, they were all meshed in that cloak of bluish purple.

"You told me that you would have yourself beheaded if you failed."

Athrun had been watching her.

"Are you still willing to keep it?"

She had not forgotten that. "Of course."

He smiled, knowing anything could happen in the next few minutes.

"Good. Then my life is in your hands."

That morning, no lines existed between Orb's princess and Zaft's Commander—no demarcation of race, royal duty, or political difference, no threats of a forthcoming war between their nations. For Cagalli, Athrun was Zaft's man of war, but he was nonetheless a man, born of the same earth she and her brother was, and endowed with the right to live.

o+

The syringe then stuck to his skin, filling his veins with a stinging red liquid that rapidly ran in his bloodstream, taking to his heart. Heat thawed the frost forming in his vessels, the heat like a belching, slithering snake, though not as stealthy. Soon, he felt pressure on his shoulders and on his ankles, and a cold towel thrown on his forehead, soothing it a bit. Such comfort would be short-lived. Just as he was about to make sense of what was happening around him, the pacer began to take effect. A sharp, crushing blow dug into his chest, obliterating his heart.

Athrun suddenly jerked forward, practically jumping off his mat and shoving Shinn away. This sent Cagalli to block with her arms what could be a fatal fall. His body must be treated more carefully now. Any disturbance might interfere with the pacer's effect. Minutes upon intake, the pacer had caused Athrun's heart to beat rapidly, speeding up all his vital signs—most noticeably, his pulse and breathing. He began to flush, not only because of the heat, but also because of his arteries beginning to expand, making it easier for the now speeded blood to flow.

Somehow, Athrun had to divert the urge to react elsewhere by pressing his fingers on the wooden floor. His entire face was now shaking in delirium. Shinn could hear the cracking sounds of wood being shaved off the surface. He was so bloated now, even the veins on his fingers were swollen. Beneath them, fresh patches of blood were beginning to form, joining the rest of the red patches that have crusted during the night. Biting his lips in a vain effort to alleviate the pain, more blood trickled down his swollen, reddened cheeks, quivering on his shaking head before it fell on the white mat he laid on.

"Good, the poison's surfacing," Cagalli sighed. Gradually, purple rings began to form around the needles, their radius gradually shrinking until the rings were pitch black. Cagalli carefully took out all the needles, pulling them as straight up as possible to avoid any possibly fatal abrasions. From the small puncture holes the needles made, viscous black liquid seeped out. She took a cold towel and pressed it on the holes, absorbing the exuded poison. It would only be a matter of minutes before all the poison is squeezed out of him.

Minutes later, blood replaced the black fluid that seeped out of the holes. The poison's extraction took longer than expected. Leaning her ear close to his heart, she concluded it was beating far too fast, and she must take action immediately.

o+

It felt like thousands of tiny, hooked-tip needles, each hook jagged and sharp, cutting through his skin. An invisible hand seemed to pull on those needles simultaneously, tearing away the flesh they clung to—even the fabric of his trousers stung his skin. His skin wanted to jump off his body, for such was the effect of his bloated veins, blue maps on his reddened skin. He felt his ribs crack every time his mad heart beat on them. The sensation was more than being skinned alive. Despite the cooling effect of the cold towel on his forehead, the heat he suffered from seared what he felt was exposed muscle, ravaging it to a dusty heap of burnt flesh. He could not cope with his heart's new pace which could only get faster and faster, every beat stronger and wilder than the first. For the first time in his life, he begged the heavens to let him pass out. But his mad heart, his disorienting fever, and the burnt, skinned sensation kept him fiercely awake in unimaginable pain. That was until a pair of steady, slender hands searched the back of his head for a vital point and pricked it with a needle.

Soon, he felt his heart slowly return to its original pace—a beast gone wild finally domesticated again. He was still swollen in many spots, but to his relief, the pain had been eased greatly. A cold towel drenched with a stronger cooling substance than water tempered his fever. Slightly comforted, his senses began to clear, but instead of flinging his senses to full alertness, the gentle almost sensual ambience created by two steady hands on his nape could only relax his wearied mind. One hand supported his sweated hair, while the other applied a faint, accurate pressure on a specific point. Yet he could not make out whose hands those were. He took shallow, slow breaths, not enough for his wanting body.

"Athrun, calm down. You're all right now. Breathe in, breathe out."

He did as he was told. "Mother?" he would have asked her, but he knew it wasn't her mother's voice, and those weren't his mother's hands. The hands on his nape were rough with calluses rendered by training with the sword. Those were younger, firmer hands and arms, all with the same gentle precision as the one that lulled him to sleep with Zaft's caressing evening breeze. Her face stood only inches from his, her lips touching his cheek as she took good watch of the small needle she used on Athrun's nape. She leaned closer as she raised Athrun's head to see what she was doing more clearly. Upon doing this, the clip attached to one side of her head fell, unraveling a bundle of golden tresses and releasing their sweet scent—that of white lilies. It was one of the flowers his mother had loved and he had learned to love because of her. This close, in a queer kind of embrace, he could see her face more clearly—her lively eyes, plush cheeks, finely trimmed nose, and luminescent lips. Her face showed signs of weariness—the night must have been a hell of a ride—but it still held strength, thinking her task was almost, but not yet, done.

The needle she had used was dipped in anesthesia, a special kind that helped slow down the heartbeat and made the weary patient fall to slumber. But realizing Shinn's jaw-dropped expression, the stupefied stares of some of the injured soldiers and the awkward position they were in, the last thing Athrun could think of was sleep.

"Cagalli," he broke, "you can get off me now."

As soon as she deemed the poison exhausted as fully as possible, she jumped at Athrun's mat immediately, one knee standing on the cloth, and raised his head so that she could place the needle where it was needed.

"Don't move. If I flinch, I might end up killing you. Just a little more…"

Not even one glance at him. She was fully concentrated on what she was doing, and he thought it best not to disturb her. _What a strange way to get close to someone,_ he thought. He didn't know if it was the medication getting to his brain, but the world seemed to be at a stand still for him. For a few moments, he seemed to have forgotten that he was in the Southern desert waging war, and it seemed that the rich grasslands of his homeland touched his cheeks, lulling him to sleep. The blades of grass swayed softly with the wind, not quite forming a king's mattress with their sharp ends and insect residents, but a peaceful repository nevertheless. His favorite resting spot, the lands surrounding the hill where his mother was buried… there was no need for swords there. No one disturbed him there, for no one knew that place. For as long as he stayed there, he was cut off from the rest of his world. There, he was neither the Commander nor Prince Athrun. He was just Athrun—himself.

Slowly, Athrun's head began to sink. It was getting too heavy for Cagalli's left hand. Athrun realized this, and tried to sit up on his own, thinking Cagalli must be tired, too.

"Thank you for your help. So can I make rounds now?"

His words were still feeble, but they held more force this time. "Rounds?" an exhausted Cagalli repeated, still keeping the small needle in place.

"I need to make rounds. So I can check on how everyone's doing. I feel much better now."

"No you can't."

"Why?"

"You just got back from a near-death situation."

"So? I'm fine now."

"Not yet. Get some rest. That's the least you can do for yourself."

"But I…"

"No buts. Get-some-rest."

She began to pull out the needle, initiating its final effect. He fought to keep his eyes open, but the anesthesia was too strong. Finally, fatigue got the better of him and there he fell—his head rested on Cagalli's shoulder—sound asleep.

Now her task was done. "Shinn, watch over him, and see to it that he stays in bed. By the way, where's Meyrin?"

"She said something about seeing her sister," Shinn answered.

"Is that so? I know, maybe you should move the Commander to a more comfortable place. There's a free spot at the far end, the wind blows much more nicely there."

While carrying one end of Athrun's stretcher, Shinn shot one last glance at Cagalli, who was busy treating another soldier. He and another soldier laid Athrun to a more comfortable spot in the stable. It was still another mat kissing the soil, but here birds alighted gaily, pecking on the sleeping Commander's cheek.

ooooo

Shinn: your chaps are getting longer and longer, ne?

Me: hey this was shorter than the last one.

Shinn: by how much?

Me: uhm… I dunno, a thousand words? That's a lot!

Shinn: yeah right. why do you make me look stupid all the time?

Me: because I think you're cute when you're stupid.

Shinn: Evil authoress…

Me: LIVE WITH IT. you are all under my mercy.

Shinn: fine. Hey, what do I get to do in the next chap?

Me: hm.. people are gonna hate you because you're gonna be mean to Cagalli.

Shinn: what? Why?

Me: you'll find out in the next chap. Ok so before Shinn rudely interrupts me again, I'll end this by telling you again that the medical methods are completely made up. If I have someone in the medical field reading this (and I know for a fact that I have), please forgive me, since I didn't do my research. My schedule isn't very forgiving.

Shinn: serves you right for being evil.

Me: gr… (pokes Shinn with the same arrow Athrun got poisoned with)

Shinn: ow… whaddyado that for? Hey, I feel dizzy.

Me: (shows arrow)

Shinn: why you… EEEEEVVVVIIILLL!!!

Me: (calls Cagalli) hey, someone got poisoned by the nessus again.

Cagalli: what? Meyrin, get the stuff I told you to get earlier. I need to perform the operation again.

Shinn: (gulps)

Me: I already told you. LIVE WITH IT.

Athrun: (sound asleep) zzzzzzzz…… (sleep talks) please.. review.. and … tell us… how evil the author is….

Me: what-did-you-say???

Athrun: zzzz (still sleep talks) i…. Mean.. tell us what …. You think…. Thanks.. zzzzzz….


	18. The Great Wall

Hi people. Sorry for the somewhat late update (again). I've been busy. Forgive me, my schedule is an annoying bastard.

BTW, I mentioned in an earlier chap that Nicol was 18 in this fic. Make him 20. Why? It's necessary. No one in their army must have entered it at an age younger than 15 other than.. nah, I'll tell you in the future. Anyway, as always, enjoy.

Disclaimer: The author of this fic does not own gundam seed/destiny, or its characters, because if I claimed I did, would delete my story—wouldn't it?—and the copyright people will sue me. Any similarities from other fics are purely coincidental, and so are any allusions to real events, places and people.

ooooo

Chap 18: The Great Wall

"Tweet, tweet."

Silently, he crossed his arms, trying _not_ to pay attention.

"Tweet, tweet. Chirp, chirp."

Yuuna made a mistake when he said Lunius wasn't strategically positioned for anything. Lunius was situated along the route most messenger birds—pigeons and the like—took to their destinations within the South and in the West. Long distance communication relied on these birds, most of which were sent by traveling merchants to update the capital of their latest business ventures and vice versa. A lot of birds were in flight that day, since the South's weather was no longer that scorching. Soon, the parched, thirsty lands would welcome the rain. Occasionally, the birds took a stop in the stables to rest. However, Yuuna can be forgotten for the moment. Right now, he sat placidly in his tub, drenched in water mixed with rose petals and lavenders, and massaged by two fine-bodied youths whose gender would be left for the reader to guess. It would be more worthwhile to pay attention to someone's rising temper, triggered by a woman's humming voice. Even the birds were getting to him.

"Shinn want a cracker? Shinn want a cracker?"

"That's it. Luna, shut up!"

This sent Luna exploding into a fit of laughter. More veins bloated on Shinn's forehead.

"Don't you have anything better to do? Like attending to other soldiers?"

Slowly, her laughter faded out. Shinn realized he had snapped a delicate string. Thinking he had reminded her of something he shouldn't have, Shinn's infuriated face softened.

"Aww…"

_Damn it,_ he thought. _Never fall for Luna's tricks. _

"How adorable."

And he hated the word when it described him. It made him feel like a misguided child everyone had something to say about. He glanced at Athrun's sleeping face, where argent moon rays seemed to prance on its less pallid cheeks.

"How long has he been asleep?" Luna asked him.

"About a week," Shinn answered. "Since he got treated."

"I see."

Luna started checking Athrun's vital signs, making small notes as she went. This had been her routine for the last few days, and every time she came, she always asked Shinn how long Athrun had been asleep. It sometimes got annoying for Shinn, but he understood how she felt. They couldn't be more relieved that their Commander was safe now.

"I'm so thankful Cagalli came with us."

She had finished her check up, and now sat relaxed on a wooden stool.

"Yes, it's good she came. By the way, Luna, where _did_ she come from?"

"I already told you," she answered crossly. "Cagalli is a friend of a friend of mine from Heliopolis. She's from Orb. Why do you keep asking?"

"I don't know, it's just that…"

Luna waited for Shinn to say more, growing impatient.

"It's just that I can't help being…"

"What?"

He sighed, knowing Luna did not know how to think in the way of a soldier.

"Suspicious."

"Why? Cagalli is just a travelling scholar."

"A travelling scholar _from Orb_," he corrected.

"Your point?"

"You do know we'll be attacking Orb eventually, right?"

She stopped, remembering what Zaft's king had told them weeks before they set out. The Crusade was launched to conquer all four corners of the world. Orb was not to be spared, and that was obviously something Cagalli wouldn't be too happy about.

"Cagalli's working really hard to help us," Luna whispered sadly.

"Exactly. After helping us, even to the point of saving the Commander's life… wouldn't she feel betrayed if she finds out we'll be attacking Orb soon?"

"She doesn't know yet."

"What if she finds out?" he insisted. "I've always wondered why she opted to join us and leave whatever peaceful life she had in Heliopolis. She's not Aprilian, so…"

"Is that your reason to doubt her?"

"Yes. I guess you doctors have a universal rule of saving everyone you can no matter where they come from."

"Exactly! That's why Cagalli's helping us."

"But unfortunately for us, Cagalli isn't a doctor. She may choose to live by this rule for now, but what if her conviction is put to the test? _What if she finds out?_"

"Are you saying…"

"I'm not saying she's a spy. I don't have the slightest bit of evidence to prove that. But I'll bet my money she'll inform Orb of our actions if she finds out it's one of our targets. Wouldn't everyone do the same? I know I would."

Only the chirping birds and the occasional passage of doctors and soldiers made cracks in the stillness of the air. The sky was painted royal purple, dotted by white stars, the golden moon, and black specks marking where the birds took flight. One of them descended slowly—the black, blurry speck transforming into a clearer, lighter shade of pink.

The pink avian figure alighted on someone's arm—definitely a woman's. This went completely unnoticed by everyone else, save for two tactful eyes.

"Shinn…"

"And to add the fact that she fights incredibly well. She must have been trained in the palace."

"Shinn."

Luna's firm tone meant she did not like what she had heard.

"Cagalli saved the Commander's life."

Truly, Luna didn't know how to think in the way a soldier does. The mock brawl Cagalli won against Athrun was enough to turn many heads to her direction, and the fact that she was from Orb and chose to conceal her identity was a sufficient reason to have her interrogated.

"How could you think of her that way? Are you saying she shouldn't have been admitted into the medical team?"

"I know you don't like me questioning your actions, but…"

"That's not the point!" she said angrily. "If she weren't there, do you think the Commander would have survived?"

Shinn had only come up with this theory in his spare time, and he wasn't about to figure out a reliable defense for it in a snap.

"The only way to treat someone poisoned by the Nessus was by that method Cagalli used. My expertise does not include acupuncture. I wouldn't have been able to treat him. Besides, if the enemy sent Cagalli, why did she save the Commander's life in the first place? Doesn't that mean anything?"

Unfortunately for Shinn, many of his colleagues have neglected the soldiers' way of thought in this particular situation out of gratitude for Cagalli's actions. If Cagalli really had malicious intentions towards Zaft, she could have just hid herself from the subordinates aiding Athrun, leaving some less knowledgeable doctor to treat him. No one would have blamed her for his death. A spy would have been smart and sly enough to do that, but Cagalli didn't do it.

"The Commander's death would have been devastating for us. Cagalli had his life in her hands. She could have easily taken his life away. If she were an infiltrator, as you say…"

"But I wasn't saying…" Shinn cut her words, only to be cut off.

"Why did she save his life then? Instead of persecuting her, shouldn't we thank her?"

Picking up her things, Luna motioned to leave. Before she could step outside, Shinn spoke softly, "I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize to me. Tell that to Cagalli, and to the Commander for waking him up."

His lips quivering, obscuring the words he wanted to say, Shinn stared at a slightly droopy-eyed irritated Athrun.

"See you around, Shinn."

With that, Luna closed the door. Left alone with Athrun, Shinn slowly—ever so slowly—turned to face him.

"You… you're alive."

He sounded as if he really couldn't believe.

"Did you want me dead?"

_Never was there a moment that you treated me seriously,_ Shinn thought crossly, _and it's not going to happen anytime soon. _"For a minute there, I was actually worried about you. Be thankful."

_Spiteful and arrogant.__ I guess things are still the same way I left them, _Athrun concluded inwardly.

"It just sounded like you were disappointed when you saw me awake, as if you were expecting me not to wake up at all. Were you?"

"Of course I was!" Shinn rebutted fiercely. Athrun's brow raised meant he was reading through the ensign again. "I mean… it's not like I was really worried. It's more like…"

"Like?"

"Like…"

"Don't speak incoherently in front of your superior, Ensign."

"I'm not!"

"Well then, go ahead. Like?"

"It's more like… you'd be a big loss to Zaft and its military if you died," Shinn said in a somewhat formal tone. "Quit playing word games with me, Commander."

Athrun smiled; he won't deny Shinn's actions were amusing. Shinn was about to say something about Athrun's head losing a few screws from the past week's fever, but Athrun had more important things in mind.

"Ensign."

"Yes, Sir."

"Were my things attended to properly?"

"Capt. Almalfi had them put…"

"Good. Find me a good sweater there, something I can wear in the Lunian court. I need to talk to someone."

"No way! Cagalli told me to make sure you didn't get out of bed."

Still smiling, Athrun forced himself to sit up, sending Shinn to hold him back.

"Commander, don't be stubborn. Stay-in-bed!"

Even if Shinn had her doubts about Cagalli, they agreed on a point. Athrun needed rest.

"Ensign."

"Yes, Sir?"

"Who is your Commander?"

This was an odd question. Shinn answered, "You, Sir."

"Whose orders are you supposed to follow?"

"Uhm, yours?"

It sounded more like a question than an answer. "That's not how soldiers are supposed to answer. You dare question my authority?"

Now, Shinn had a habit of suggesting options alternative to his Commander's orders. He even goes as far as challenging him to mock brawls every time Athrun shows up in brawling nights. Though branded as disobedient and disrespectful by his peers, Shinn wouldn't even dare deny Athrun's authority as Commander. They argued on many levels, but that was something awfully clear to Shinn since he joined the army.

"No, I'm not!" he spat. "What makes you say I am?"

"I deem I've already made my point. Now, do as I tell you," Athrun proceeded to get up from bed—unsuccessfully, thanks to his stiffened muscles.

"But you can't even stand up. How are you supposed to ride your horse to…"

Briskly, Athrun stood up from his bed. It was as if he had never been sick.

"My orders are not to be overridden. That is our rule, and doctors are not to be exempted from him. I'm perfectly fine now. Get moving."

Hesitantly, Shinn got up to execute Athrun's orders. As soon as Shinn was a good distance away, Athrun let his head lean against the wall, eventually letting his back follow and sinking back to bed.

"Just a little more…" he mumbled, like a schoolboy insisting he had the right to sleep past the hour his mother was waking him. But remembering the multitude of soldiers injured in battle, Athrun forced himself up, stretching his muscles furiously.

"What am I thinking? Forget sleep. I've rested long enough. I need to make rounds _right now_."

o+

"Cagalli! Cagalli!"

"Ssh! Not too loud. I can't have people finding out what you're here for."

Amidst the pink bird's incessant talking—for the bird was a lovely pink parrot indigenous to the South—Cagalli couldn't help but question her brother's sanity.

"Lacus' parrot? Please, Kira, you could've sent a hawk, a pigeon even, but a parrot?"

"Cagalli! Hi! Hello! How do you do? I'm fine, thank you. Too bad, too bad, too bad!"

Its voice was painfully high-pitched. It made screeching sounds in the air, strumming the wind like a deaf musician does a guitar. This creature was dear to her, but sometimes, she just wished it'd shut its big, snappy beak.

"Haro, please!"

It was incredibly intelligent though. Upon hearing Cagalli's distress, it stopped yapping, relaxed its outstretched wings, and even showed its feet for Cagalli to attach her message for the people at home.

"Godspeed, Haro. Don't get caught."

She released the bird, and off it went to join the rest of the black specks that floated in the sky.

_I guess that goes for me, too. _

It had been a week since the Lunians surrendered. Remnants of the ambush had been dealt with days ago. All bodies have been segregated and honored in their respective funeral rites. All that was left to remind anyone of that night were the bloodstained patches of sand and the charred spots marking where the flames once stood. Lulled by the caressing South wind, Cagalli lay prostrate on coarse grains, snatching a few moments of sleep.

Her mind drifted, asking her…

Did she do the right thing?

_I just saved __Zaft's__ Commander, a man who has killed hundred of others, who will continue to kill, and who might eventually kill my brother. _

It was inevitable. After the South, there would be Orb right across the border. Why would Zaft turn its back on it then?

_Did I do the right thing? If I had never volunteered to help him, by now, __Zaft's__ army would be…_

Just as Luna said, all of Zaft—not just the army—would be devastated. It would take a while for them to recuperate from such a loss—it may have even been enough to send the army back to Zaft.

Cagalli lost the perfect opportunity, and opportunities were invaluable to a spy. More importantly, it was a question of principle. Brought up the way she was, love of country first and foremost of all was dogma. The value of human life was also an important part of her royal doctrine. Never did Cagalli imagine that these two complementary facets of her principles would clash violently in her head.

_I just saved an enemy leader's life, when I could have easily eliminated him from Orb's troubles. Wasn't that to my country a__…_

_Betrayal?_

She may be a princess loyal to her people, but she was also a human being.

_What am I thinking? That was a human life! Commander or no Commander, as a human being capable of saving his life, it was my duty to help him._

But as a human being, it was also her duty to save the greater number of lives. How many lives has he taken? How many lives will he continue to take? Was she willing to risk the lives of so many, including her countrymen's, her brother's, her father's…

All to save one man?

_No! I mean, yes… I mean…_

What _does_ she mean?

_I mean, I don't know, all right? All I know is that… I did what I thought then was right. _

But does she still think she did the right thing?

_I… I… _

It was betrayal—a betrayal to Orb.

_No! I was only trying to help…_

Trying to help the enemy of her people, that is. It was a betrayal to her country and to her family.

_No, stop! _

A betrayal to her own flesh and blood—one that would cost them their lives.

"Stop it!"

"Miss Cagalli!"

Nicol knelt beside Cagalli, watching over her worriedly.

"Are you alright? You were having a nightmare."

"What? Oh yes," she took deep breaths, coping with the sudden awakening. "I'm fine… I think."

Offering his hand, Nicol helped Cagalli up to her feet. "Next time, don't sleep outside. It's not very good for your body, and it's not good for your head, either."

He started walking her back to where the tents were. With eyes still bleak Cagalli walked, losing sight of a tiny sand mound embedded in their path.

"Watch your step, Miss Cagalli," Nicol advised, blocking her fall when she tripped on the sand mound. "Are you alright?"

"Yes, yes," she answered, nodding tiredly and resuming their walk. "I'm fine. Perfectly fine…"

Her tipsy frame said otherwise. Nicol thought a nice conversation would cheer her up. "Say… you know, I've heard of how you treated the Commander a week ago."

Upon this, she stopped. Nicol's words, no matter how innocent, were no less ominous than her name stamped firmly on a writ of habeas corpus.

"Oh sorry. Maybe last week was too… traumatizing." _Bad idea,_ he scolded himself. "Maybe we can talk about something else."

_What a nice guy, _Cagalli thought. "Thanks for trying to cheer me up, Captain. It's all right. We can talk about it. What was it that you wanted to know?"

The captain's eyes lit up, happy to see the lady smiling again. "Nothing really. I had a full report on it, thanks to Ensign Asuka."

_Shinn really is useful_, Cagalli thought.

"But what I really wanted to do," Nicol continued, "was to thank you for what you've done. For saving his life."

This open admittance of his sentiments surprised her, and at the same time reminded her of the dilemma she had found herself in earlier.

Nicol proceeded to speak as he looked up at the starry sky, "If it weren't for your courage, Athrun would have died. You're a hero to us now. You're our savior's savior. Understand?"

_Athrun_Cagalli thought. _He just called him by first name. Wait…_

_Savior's savior?_

"Athrun never lets us help him. He always acts tough, and whenever he gets hurt, he always says it's fine, gets up, and continues to fight, even if it hurts like hell."

_Everybody's watching me… so I have to pretend everything's all right. Even if it isn't_, Cagalli remembered him saying.

"But you were given that rare opportunity… he allowed you to help him. That's a big responsibility. Everyone would have cursed you to death if you failed."

"That's exactly how I felt," Cagalli sighed. Breathing seemed a little less difficult now.

"But you took it, and succeeded."

"Yes, I did. Didn't I?"

"You saved a very important life for Zaft, and for us. You saved all of_ us _in the process."

"By that you mean?"

"Athrun is our leader, but more importantly, he's like a brother to all of us. We can always find someone else to take his place as Commander, maybe someone even better than him."

To his men, the Commander was invincible. No man was worth more than he was in strength, skill or everything else for that matter. This was Aprilian mythology since ancient times, regarded as absolute truth by the millions of men led by Zaft's Commander. Present times had taught soldiers to regard this as myth, yet instilled into every Zaft soldier's heart was the still irrevocable premise that Zaft's Commander was more than an ordinary man. He had to be. If not, would he deserve the right to be lord over them?

Now, here was a soldier who held not to this belief, but knew his Commander's limits, and was not shy to admit it. Perhaps, it was because he was one of Athrun's dearest friends.

"By birthright, he should be our lord and master, but he never claims that right, ever. He shares everything, the same food, the same kinds of clothes…"

"But that's Zaft tradition, right?"

Giggling, Nicol took a moment to think of his dear friend, who should still be in his covers, thinking of grass prairies and victorious mock brawls.

"Miss Cagalli, it is true that according to tradition, everyone must share everything in common in the army, but not in the same way Athrun does."

"No wonder I've never heard of it before."

"Of course, it hasn't been written in the history books… yet. Athrun would be recorded as the first Commander in Zaft history to have baths in common with his men."

"Come to think of it, I have heard of common ownership in the Zaft army, but I've never heard of a prince…"

"Exactly. That was one of the first things he implemented when he became Commander. Everyone holds everything in common, and he meant _everyone_. It used to be that commissioned officers—meaning the ensigns to the higher ranks—get equal rations, separate privileges, that sort of thing. That all ended, thanks to Athrun."

"Nobles did not take it well, I presume."

"Of course! Sharing quarters with 'filthy', 'uncivilized' peasants was something they weren't used to. They even deemed it impossible. I remember him coming out of his tent, dressed in peasant clothes, all to the surprise of everyone."

o+

"May I sit here?"

Nicol swore he needed glasses.

"P…prince Athrun? What are you wearing?"

"Uhm, clothes? I'll ask again, may I sit here? But if someone already has this seat reserved…"

"N… no… Sir! Please, do take it."

Nicol and the rest of base camp were aghast. Athrun had just been proclaimed Commander two days ago. That night, he had taken his bath at the bathing area allocated for the infantries, dressed himself in peasant clothes, and took the same bowl of beef stew his men ate, instead of the usual steak and wine reserved for him.

Nicol, then ensign, could only stare at him.

"Eat up. You're food'll get cold."

The Commander ate quickly, not minding if he spattered some of the stew on his shirt, or if some of it stuck to his lips. When that happened, he'd wipe the soup off with his bare arm.

Again, Nicol could only stare.

"Is there something in my face?" Athrun asked him. "Oh, soup. Sorry."

Then he wiped his lips again. Nicol was still staring.

"What?"

"No… nothing, Prince Athrun. It's just that…"

"Just?"

"I… I'm not used to you acting this way."

Athrun took a few minutes to himself, thinking. "You know, you're right. I'm not used to me acting this way, either. It's been a long time since I got out in peasant clothes."

Squinting, Nicol couldn't recall if the prince ever wore peasant clothes at any point in the past.

"But I'm trying to get used to it again, and I think I'm getting the hang of it."

"Hang of being what?"

"Crude. Uncivilized. At least, in the eyes of all my etiquette teachers. But in your eyes… I'm just like everyone else."

"But your Highness, that's not exactly the right way to put it."

Quizzically, Athrun looked at Nicol, who, upon meeting his green eyes, stiffened into a bar of soap.

"No disrespect meant, my Lord! I meant… that's not what we're taught in military school."

"All right, I went to military school, but some lessons slipped my mind. Do recall which lesson you refer to."

"The Commander is superior to you, in every which way. The day you are assigned your post, he owns you and will promote, demote, or dismiss you at his bidding. It is unbecoming to question his decisions, and it is a crime to even think of yourself as his equal in any term or attribute humanly contrived."

He fingered his chin, looking up as if the sky held answers. He wore a jovial, carefree look—pursed lips and narrowed eyes averted to an invisible ceiling—though never bereft of a refined intellectual keenness made second to instinct in him by years of breeding.

"Come here."

With shaking feet, Nicol stopped within a foot from Athrun.

"Let me tell you a secret."

A gesture of Athrun's head sent Nicol kneeling to hear what the Commander wanted to say.

He whispered, "Actually, I don't know if I'm stronger than all of you."

In utter shock, Nicol jumped from his position.

"What was so shocking about that?"

"That can't be! Zaft tradition deliberately states that…"

"You still believe in those fairytales?"

Nicol's jaw dropped at the last word.

"Fairytales?"

"What, you still believe in demigods? As far as the definition of demigods go, hm… stabs, slashes, and whiplashes hurt, and I think if I get too much of them, I'll get killed. No, I definitely won't pass as a demigod. The old myths helped my forefathers maintain order in the old days, but Zaft's current military organization is currently stable enough to hold itself without them. Don't you agree?"

Had this come from a lesser soldier, Nicol would have called it blasphemy. So many more of them would have done the same.

"But let's keep this to the both of us, shall we? I've only come up with this by myself, and there are some people who wouldn't like the proposition. Anyway, I've figured out that one of the best, if not the best, way to earn a soldier's respect is by treating them equally… on certain grounds, of course. Some lines cannot be crossed, but some lines can. Besides, I don't like the idea of being pampered in the battlefield."

"But what will the nobles say?"

"Hey, I can do it. They have no excuses now. What's so wrong about beef stew? I think it's tasty."

"Uhm, yes, your Highness…" was all Nicol could push out. This was the first time he had seen Athrun up close, and never in his wildest dreams would he imagine that the man branded the best of them all would be the first to revert every claim made of his invincibility.

Upon hearing the honorific, Athrun frowned.

"In the army, I am to be addressed as Commander, not Prince. That fits my position better. All of Zaft's Commanders have been addressed that way."

"Yes, P… I mean, Commander."

Athrun closed his eyes, a painful memory unearthed. Soon, the gloom on his face lifted.

"Say… you're the pianist from last week's concert, right?"

"Oh? Yes, Commander, I was the one at the far end."

"From Clandestine's concert, yes?"

"Yes, Sir."

"There, you're getting the hang of it. Anyway, you're really good."

"Really? You think so?"

Seeing the sparkle in the young ensign's eyes, Athrun smiled. "Yes. I can't play a single musical instrument—I never had the time or the interest to learn—so I admire people who can play, and you're extremely talented."

"Really?"

Nicol's round, beady eyes were on the verge of tears.

"True. Even the king was impressed. We were hoping you could perform…"

"Perform?"

_Slap me, I'm dreaming! _he reiterated continuously in his head. Nicol was being asked to perform…

"Yes, we were hoping you would give us the honor of hearing you perform at the king's court. That is, only if you wish to…"

"Oh yes, Commander! I'd be more than happy to accept! This is my honor, Sir, an honor to even set foot on the royal court. Thank you Sir, thank you!"

The sudden blast of a joyous holler called the attention of several nearby men. Nicol was just about to give his Commander a big hug.

"Ensign, compose yourself!"

Upon Athrun's order, Nicol's body froze. Athrun's affable smile had been warped into a pair of cold green eyes. Terrified of reprimand, Nicol took his seat.

"Relax, I'm not mad. But don't do that again. You can't just hug me in front of all these people."

"My apologies, Sir. I was just so overwhelmed. No one's ever said those things about my music before."

"Great artists deserve recognition; it is an honor to be speaking with one."

His heart was flying above his head. _The best way to gather a soldier's respect is to treat him equally,_ Athrun said. He wasn't a demigod, but he made a fine Commander.

And it wasn't just because he was a better fighter than everyone else.

"By the way, I never got your name."

"Nicol Almalfi, Sir."

"Ensign Almalfi… ah, one of the newly-assigned ensigns, correct?"

"You've memorized our names?"

"Just the commissioned officers. I can't memorize all 60, 785 of you."

So many schemes have been concocted to bind the army to their Commander. All these schemes had one common factor: a great wall. They were all brothers in battle, but there was always a line between leader and subordinate, a line outlined on the earth by a great, impenetrable wall.

The wall still stands. But now, someone has made a little window.

"Mind if I call you Nicol?"

"No, Sir."

"Thanks. Likewise, feel free to call me Athrun. Just do so only in private. You know I can't be too nice in front of everyone."

o+

"I was just a poor kid lucky enough to get a scholarship from Zaft's conservatory of music. Back then, all I had for a living was my music and my bow—I received good training from my late father. Playing for the concerts was never enough. Sons and daughters of prominent nobles hogged the operas almost everyday. I rarely got good parts and they never paid me my work's worth, so I joined the army and turned music into a sideline. Since I met him, Athrun has been recommending me to different opera houses. That's when I was able to establish a name in music. I'm getting better pay now, and some of my compositions are being played across Zaft. All thanks to him."

"So I guess you want to retire to the peaceful life, now that you have enough money to do so?" Cagalli asked.

"Of course not! I'd stay in the army all my life. He's done so much for me. Those things he did probably don't mean a thing to him, but they've changed my life greatly. I don't think I can ever repay him in a lifetime, so the least I can do is stay by his side."

A smile once again found its way to her lips. Pleased, Nicol continued, "There you go. It's good to see you smiling again."

Cagalli gave him a confused look.

"Athrun's story never fails to inspire people. He does not think he is lord over Zaft, but believes he is its servant."

Nodding, her lips furled once more to that coveted smile. Her view of the Commander seemed to change over time, from the bringer of death, to the lonely young man, to this noble god among men, and everything she had learned seemed to prove the first two were only masks, and that the last was the real Athrun Zala.

"You're really close to him, aren't you?"

"Yes, I guess you can put it that way," Nicol answered sheepishly. "But if we're talking about friendship, no one is closer to him than…"

"His three lieutenants?"

"Lt. Joule, Lt. Elsman, and Lt. Westenfluss. The four of them practically grew up together. Need I say more?"

"But if we're talking about intimacy, no one beats his mother."

"Lt. Westenfluss!" Nicol exclaimed upon sighting Heine.

"Good evening, Lt.," Cagalli broke, not knowing what else to say. "This is a surprise."

"Likewise. Why would you be staying out in this dead of night? It's cold out here."

"We're fine, Sir," Nicol ran to his superior. "I was just accompanying Miss Cagalli to the stables."

"Come to think of it, Lieutenant," Cagalli butted in. "I haven't heard of Zaft's queen in a while. What has become of her?"

A sudden yet subtle gust of wind blew on their ears. Cagalli seemed not to notice how cautious the air was.

"The world has acclaimed her to be a great woman, a dutiful queen who served as one of the mediators between the king and his people. The last I heard of her endeavors was of five years ago, when she became her husband's representative in Junius, but after that, I have heard of nothing else. I've always wanted to know more about such a great woman, who has touched so many lives through her good will. She truly is a wonderful woman."

"_Was_ a wonderful woman," Heine said sadly.

"What?"

"I guess Orb's just too far away to hear the news," Nicol mumbled.

"I'm surprised that a traveler like you doesn't know," Heine noted, doubtful. "Queen Lenore died in Junius five years ago."

o+

"We'll send colts from the capital, those we think you can train and breed on desert terrain. That should help."

Dressed in a set of clothes less ragged than the ones he normally wore in base camp, Athrun set out with Shinn to the Lunian gates. Walking cane in hand, he was still too weak to walk by himself. To their surprise, they met Miguel, who was making rounds himself. The two leaders started discussing future plans for Lunius, with Shinn tailing them along the dusty paths now littered with adobe pieces. Material was being dug from a nearby mountain and embedded on the sand to even the surface. It was nighttime; the workers had long been sent home but the scent of mixed ruble was still in the air.

Just as they had done in Heliopolis, the capital had already sent a governor to facilitate local affairs. Upon his arrival, his first task was to deliver the Zaft king's message to Miguel.

"Word that I have surrendered upon your offer," Miguel explained, "seemed to have reached Zaft's king somehow. Two days after the surrender, the Aprilian governor gave me a letter from the king, asking me if I wanted to accept governorship over Lunius."

It may sound unorthodox to offer a former enemy a post in government, but it was not a radical innovation in Zaft's history of conquering.

"Once you have defeated an enemy sovereign, the first thing to do is to assess whether or not he is righteous. If not, forget negotiations, and cut off his head. Do not think twice that he would wish to reclaim the throne, and that he will grab any opportunity to do so, even if it means sinking as low as betrayal. But if you have a righteous man at your mercy, think twice before eliminating him, for such a man is useful in governance. He will serve his lords well as long as he knows and acknowledges his master. Offer him a good post in government, and see if he consents.

"Once you deem your captive to be righteous, assess whether or not he is a proud man. Proud men are like wild beasts—no matter how many times you attempt and seem to succeed in taming them, there will come a time when they will free themselves and strike back. They cannot be trusted. A proud sovereign will never pay allegiance to the new sovereign—his ego won't let him do it. So if the captured sovereign doesn't consent to your offer, off with his head.

"But if you have deemed the man righteous and humble—or humbled by whatever greatness you have showed him—then it would be safe to lay down your arms and extend a hand of friendship. And that is how you prove to him that you yourself are righteous, and that you are deserving of his respect.

"As for assessing whether or not someone is righteous or proud, that is a skill left for the conqueror to develop. If he is not able to do so, then he is not fit to be king."

"And your answer?" Athrun broke from his reverie. _Be careful, Sir __Aiman__, this answer might cost you your life._

"I…"

_This man is righteous, no doubt, but this man is proud. We are asking him, the representative of all __Lunian__ royalty before him, to bow down to our sovereign._

"I've already sent a message to King Patrick that I accept."

Athrun stopped at his tracks. He was not expecting this.

"You speak the truth?"

"A lie spoken to you is just as bad as a lie spoken to the king. Of course, I speak the truth."

The prince could not find the words to say. The one virtue all Lunian kings held to was pride, and no one has ever broken that tradition of resilience until now.

"So you're abandoning a tradition your ancestry has upheld for so long? Just like that?"

There was a dint of uncertainty in his tone, something Miguel thought was nonexistent in this man. Behind them, Fredrik approached a few feet away, taking his place beside the former king.

"It is true, Commander. You are young, so young you are yet to understand the true value of tradition."

Eventually, their feet led them to the eastern end of Lunius, where their wall faced Miyercuria. Out of the governors' consensus, the walls have been demolished. Across the expanse of open space, the two separated walls of Lunius and Miyercuria were being joined under the flagship of the western race.

The two once separated were now joined—not completely, but time will ripen these bonds until it deems they are unbreakable. Lunius and Miyercuria's war has come to an end, due in part—perhaps, for the greater part—to Zaft's conquest. Lunius, named just as it was before it was divided, now stood with a hopeful heart. In exchange for parity rights over the city's bird flight paths, the people were to receive government subsidy for food and other commodities. Jobs in the West were now available for Lunians, and renovations for the city's dilapidated establishments were up and going.

Fredrik continued, "Tradition is a template set by the old, founded on their successes… and mistakes, so that whatever wrong they had done in the past, posterity would not repeat. That is why tradition exists, and why the world keeps to it. But unlike the events of the past, which cannot be undone, the present is ever changing. What right does tradition have to play stubborn? Time is more powerful. Tradition is there to be revised by the following generations, just as they see fit."

"Zaft's part in all of this," Miguel said placidly, looking at the empty space bordered by sand and ruble, "was to usher in the change. The hard way, but it seems that the end result is for the good of the people, even if it is at the cost of my lineage. But what use does a city have for a king who only knows how to play stubborn? Times have changed. I should pay allegiance to the new king."

Athrun's eyes lofted up to the night sky, a blanket of purple fabric hoisted up with the rest of the celestials. He sighed, relieved his sword could rest for one more day.

_I guess I'm not the only one who likes to break the rules, _he thought.

"Honorable men. It is my honor to be hearing your discourses."

"Much obliged, Commander," Miguel finished. "It's a bit late. Maybe you should be getting back to base camp?"

"Oh yes, I should," replied Athrun, remembering the pile of things he needed to deal with once he got back. "Thank you."

"We've done nothing for you."

"What you said helped clear my mind a bit," Athrun answered. The conversation momentarily distracted him. _Stupid headache._"I'll keep them in mind."

"Our honor." Fredrik watched the Commander and his subordinate turn away and leave.

As a final farewell, Miguel shouted, "You are young, Prince Athrun."

This made Athrun and Shinn turn their heads to see Miguel smiling. It was the first time Athrun had seen him smile, and Miguel's "friendly" advice made him smile in turn.

"As soon as all of this is over, find a woman, settle down, and be happy. You deserve it."

Just before another massive migraine hit him, he was able to shout back, "I get that advice very often, but right now, it's something I can't think about."

ooooo

Thanks to everyone who read and more thanks to those who review. Special thanks to Julie (you can try guessing who she is) for being so supportive :-). Please review, I am desperate for un-depressants nowadays. See ya.


	19. Heavy Things

So hello again. Actually, this next chap was supposed to be the first half of a chapter, but the chap got too long so I split it in two. Again. Man, I am making long chaps lately.

I couldn't think of a better title, when I read the chap over, I realized how much I was repeating the idea of heavy stuff.

So without further ado… go, go, go!

Disclaimer: The author of this fic does not own gundam seed/destiny, or its characters, because if I claimed I did, would delete my story—wouldn't it?—and the copyright people will sue me. Any similarities from other fics are purely coincidental, and so are any allusions to real events, places and people.

ooooo

Chap 19: Heavy Things

"Dead? How? When?" stammered Cagalli. "Queen Lenore was adored by her people! How can anyone—it was a disease, wasn't it?"

"No. She was murdered."

"But how? I can't imagine…"

Heine couldn't help but feel sorry for the girl, who seemed to a big fan of the late queen.

"Athrun would be very happy to hear of someone who thought of his mother so highly."

"How could anyone kill a woman," Cagalli continued, "whose good-heartedness had lifted so many lives in despair, and whose love had touched so many lives?"

Her eyes narrowed. "Despicable."

"All in Zaft thought that way," Heine broke.

"Who did it?"

"Assassins. They broke into the royal rest house in Junius where the queen and his son were having a vacation."

"The Commander was with her when she died?"

Her voice, so loud, shooed away the birds alighting on the rocks.

"Why? He was there. He could have done something! He should've protected his mother. Why, then, was she still murdered?"

A renewed fury was sparked in her, brimming to her quivering eyes.

"Miss Cagalli," Nicol said dolefully, "do not blame Athrun for his mother's death. It is something he does too often to himself."

"At least forty men broke into the abode that night," Heine reinforced. "Athrun was only one man."

"Where were the guards?"

"All of them found dead. Some say there must have been more men, but no one knows for sure. Details of the queen's murder have been shut away. The king wishes not to speak of it anymore. Her death must be too painful to bear."

"Who sent them?"

Suddenly, Heine faced her, a cold look on his face.

"That man's name must not be spoken, no, not even _remembered_. It deserves no such grace, only condemnation!"

Never had Cagalli seen Heine this angry before.

Nicol spoke with the same disdain in his eyes, though less vehement. "The crime he had committed is far worse than treason."

"Something exists that is worse than treason?" Cagalli asked in disbelief.

"What is worse than treason, you ask? When a man trusts you with his life, shares with you the food on his dinner table, and praises you in front of his own son, how would you repay him?"

"Heine…" Nicol hushed him. Heine was shaking with every word.

"By killing his wife? Is that how?"

Cagalli felt her legs lose strength. For a few minutes the wind got heavier, squishing their bodies that were small against its clasp. She felt this the strongest of the three, and she couldn't breathe.

"Heine, stop it. You're scaring her."

Stepping a few more inches closer, Nicol whispered, "The king's orders were clear. This issue is never to be unearthed and not one syllable of that name must be uttered… ever… again. Cagalli is not Aprilian. She must not know anymore than what she already does."

Gradually, through three deep, even gulps of air, Heine calmed down. Cagalli seemed to be in a state of shock, two eyes directed to nowhere.

"My apologies, Miss Cagalli," Heine tried to comfort her. "I got carried away. It's just that… I had so much respect for the man, and…"

"Perhaps it would be wise if we dropped the discussion about him."

Cagalli's face was light and comforting. "Likewise, perhaps it would be more comfortable if Lt. Joule and Lt. Elsman weren't so cramped up behind that post."

Slightly flushed, an embarrassed Dearka and a rather grumpy Yzak popped into view.

"Well, well, good evening Miss Cagalli!" Dearka began happily. "What a pleasant gift the starry night has given us—a chance to escort you back to the sleeping quarters. Shall we then, my Lady?"

Cagalli didn't know if she was to smile or to slap Dearka for saying something so out of place at the time. Fortunately, Yzak made the decision for her.

"When will you learn to give up, Lt.?"

"Yzak!" Dearka whispered firmly. "Why do you always have to mess my style?"

"We are speaking of the queen's death here! How dare you trifle with it by making such an absurd statement…"

"Trifle? By God, I would never…"

Neither of them could care if the other spoke loud enough for the mountains to render echoes audible to the edges of the earth. A small laugh escaped Cagalli's lips, bursting to a belch of laughter. The four soldiers exchanged looks.

"Hey, she's laughing now!" Nicol exclaimed in delight. "That's good. Nice job, Yzak, Dearka."

"I see," Cagalli muttered, out of breath. "Thank you. Thank you very much."

From inside the stables was the aureate glow of night lamps, and the sound of brisk, hasty steps accompanied by the tap of a beating cane. Luna's flabbergasted scream welcomed the party of five.

"Commander! What on earth are you doing?"

o+

"Shinn… you… you… idiot!"

"What? He ordered me to let him get up and make rounds. I can't disobey orders."

"Cagalli told you to…"

"I know, but you know the Commander. When he wants to do something, he can just do it. He's the Commander, Luna, we can't just order him around!"

"But it was for his own good…"

"Oh, try to make him listen, and I'll do everything you want me to do for a week."

"Luckily for you, Ensign, you won't have to keep that promise. I forgot to tell you. You're free to go."

Athrun moved in the open spaces alongside the wounded, reading through doctors' notes as he went. He had abandoned the cane, seeing there was little space to move around with and thinking he could stand up on his own.

"Commander, I know you've picked up a regular habit of visiting the injured at this hour," Shinn tried to reason, "but shouldn't this time be an exception? You're injured yourself. The soldiers would understand."

Athrun hovered over one soldier, whose left eye was bandaged, the other eye slowly, persistently trying to open fully.

"Sorry if I woke you up," Athrun apologized.

"Sir… you're alive… that girl… kept her promise… thank the gods…"

Gently, Athrun placed the medical notes back where he found them. He said nothing else, but the image of his rigid form, poorly silhouetted by the stables' lighting was enough to put a smile on the wounded man's face.

"I should be getting to the other wards. Dr. Hawke, please provide me a report later. You're dismissed."

Neither Luna nor Shinn moved.

"The both of you, get moving."

They just stood there.

"Go. That's an order."

"But Sir…"

"Ensign, orders are orders. Now go."

"We still think you need to get back to bed."

_Stubborn as always,_ Athrun thought, limping away. Shinn and Luna tailed close behind. "Fine, follow if you want, but tone your voices down. I don't want to wake up any more of the wounded."

o+

"Commander, maybe you should try and get some rest."

"I've slept for a week, that's not enough?"

"Try to get _more_ rest."

"No."

"But we set out in…"

"Two days. Unless the men haven't recovered well enough."

"Exactly. You need to recover yourself."

_You are beginning to be annoying again, Ensign…_ Athrun cursed as he limped to the next ward.

"Think of it this way. In every battle, every soldier has to be in his tip-top shape. If he isn't and the enemy notices, he'll be the first one they'd target. For goodness' sake, Commander, you're in the front line! Don't you realize…"

Annoyed, Athrun stopped and turned sharply to face his subordinate.

"I-am-not-sick-anymore. What part of that can you not understand?"

Glaring back, Shinn answered. "The 'sick' part. You've been dizzy since our trip to the Lunian gates."

Sighing, Athrun turned away to face the next ward. "This is just a little headache. It's nothing. Now quiet down before someone hears your big mouth."

Too late. Everyone in the next ward heard the wooden doors screech. Half the room stood up to salute; the other half—critically wounded soldiers unable to stand—forced themselves to sit up from sackcloth mats laid on the ground, all in an effort to confirm that their Commander was back and kicking.

Athrun returned the salute immediately—the soldiers need not strain themselves.

"Get back to rest, all of you. We set out in two days, save your strength for that."

"Shouldn't you be saying that to yourself?"

Yzak, as usual, seemed cranky.

Dearka, as usual, took the nicer approach. "Athrun, shouldn't you be in bed right now?"

"I am sick and tired of people telling me to get back to bed," Athrun grumbled. Add the headache, and his head felt like falling off its cranium. Nevertheless, a strange new feature on Yzak's face caught his attention.

"Is there something on my face?" Yzak spat.

"Yes. It's practically covered in bandages. So that's where he got you…"

"I've received word from the medics that I'm free to go. You, on the other hand, are advised to stay in bed for the next two days."

Stay in bed. If I hear that one more time… "I said," Athrun moved forward, passing Yzak by a couple of inches, "I'm perfectly fine now. I'm just walking… there's nothi…" With wobbly feet, he tried to move forth a few more steps, but this only caused him to lose balance. Luckily, someone was there to catch him before his body fell completely, and it wasn't Yzak. 

"God, you're heavy."

"Cagalli?" he mumbled, disoriented.

"Hey," she scolded Shinn. "I told you to keep him in bed."

"Uhm…" was all Shinn could say before Cagalli hung one of Athrun's arms on her shoulders, grabbed his waist so she could support him and started to walk him back to his cubicle.

"W… wait!" Athrun struggled. He was dazed; he could barely think straight. "Don't drag me. That's an order…"

"I'm not a soldier, Commander," Cagalli said. "I am not under your jurisdiction. Therefore, I don't need to follow your orders."

All his lieutenants, the doctors, and everyone else could only watch as Athrun was being helplessly dragged along the open spaces between the mats.

"If he doesn't want to get back to bed, then drag him back. It's the only way."

Athrun was obviously trying to pry Cagalli off. Finally successful, he warned her angrily, "Never do that again!"

He started walking the other way, until Cagalli yanked one of his arms and started dragging him again. Athrun tried to stand his ground, initiating a sort of tug-of-war with the smaller, more _slender_ girl.

"QUIT BEING SO STUBBORN! FOLLOW ME!"

With one final tug, she tore Athrun off his position, almost causing him to fall face first on her. With Cagalli stomping furiously and Athrun unable to resist—he was too tipsy to hold her back—they both disappeared out a door that opened to another ward.

"Oh, no, you're not going anywhere else. Making rounds would have to wait. You're going back to bed!"

The sounds of angry feet eventually faded. Shinn felt like passing out.

"Ensign?" Dearka snapped his fingers in front of the younger soldier's petrified face. "Snap out of it. She's gone now."

"Scary," Luna mumbled.

"I can't believe it." Shinn was yet to recover. This would be something to remember. "She just _ordered_ him to get back to bed."

o+

"And stay in bed!"

Triumphantly, Cagalli was able to bring Athrun back into his cubicle, throwing him face first into his mat. One must be reminded that there are no mattresses in base camp—just sackcloth mats blanketing a patch of earth.

Coarse, rocky, _solid_ earth.

"Ow…" Athrun winced. The fall didn't hurt him badly; it was just that his muscles still felt battered from the last week's ordeal. "What did you do that for?"

"Stubborn Commander Zala didn't want to get back to bed when he was specifically advised to do so. So I dragged you back. Any problems?"

"Yes! You just embarrassed me in front of everyone."

"Problems?"

"Of course! You don't just drag me in front of my men."

"You were being stubborn. You deserved it."

"What?" he exclaimed, his patience blown to bits. "What is wrong with you?"

"Nothing. I was just doing what was best for you. Something you wouldn't let anyone else do."

Still angry, Athrun watched as she prepared a glass of water, and a tiny tablet.

"Take it."

"What? So you can put me to sleep?"

"Take it, or I'll shove it down your throat."

Reluctantly, he took the tablet from her palm and gulped it down with the all the glass's contents. He set the glass down with a loud thud.

"There we go," Cagalli knelt, patting his head. "That wasn't so hard. You should be feeling better now."

"You'll pay for this, Cagalli," he swore, his head tipping sideways till it hit the ground, its owner fast asleep.

"Sleep tight, Commander," Giggling, she tucked Athrun in a warm woolen blanket.

o+

Just in case Athrun tried to get up again, Cagalli told Shinn that _she_ would stand guard. Shinn was in all ways suspicious, but upon Dearka's command, Shinn did as he was told.

Cagalli now sat with legs folded and wrapped in her arms, her head leaning on her knees. She was a bit sleepy, too.

"Maybe I can catch some shut-eye, he's probably knocked out, anyway." She let out a big yawn, staring at Athrun. The entire upper half of his body rested on sand; he wasn't exactly given the chance to tuck in himself properly. Having fallen sideways, he lay with his waist bent to the right. A rather uncomfortable position to be in.

"Fine," Cagalli mumbled, starting to roll his back into the mat as gently as possible. It was then that she realized something.

"Damn, he _is_ heavy," Cagalli grunted. "Funny, he isn't big-boned, he's not fat. Why is he so heavy?"

Concluding that rolling him into a more comfortable position made little sense, she thought _dragging_ him would be a better idea. He was completely knocked out. He'd never notice.

Cagalli moved to the side opposite his head's and took hold of his left arm. Yanking him ever so gently, she succeeded in raising his upper half, allowing her to place her arm on his back so she can _gently_ lay it on the mat. She was happy with her little victory, but she forgot one thing.

"Damn, my hand's stuck."

Now Athrun's back was pinning her hand to the ground. She struggled to pull it out, but to make matters worse, Athrun rolled closer to her, pinning her entire forearm with his weight.

And he was, for some reason, REALLY heavy.

"Commander, my arm…"

It was getting painful, being pinned that way. In a desperate effort to get her arm out of there, Cagalli berated his ears, "Commander, GET OFF MY ARM!"

Unfortunately, the blast in his ears didn't wake him up. Caught in an _extremely_ uncomfortable position with him, Cagalli could do absolutely nothing but stay in her position, arm squished in his weight, her back hunched and tensed, and her nose only a hair strand's width from his forehead.

"Commander, this is getting very painful…" she grunted further. "Wake up, Commander." Nudging him with her free hand was useless. He was sleeping like a rock.

"Oh, I give up." Her arm was getting numb from the weight, anyway. Tired of her struggle, she laid her head, absentmindedly resting it on Athrun's chest. His heartbeat was steady, unmindful of the trouble he was dealing her.

"Wha…" she scrambled back up, but remembering she _couldn't _get up, her head settled back on him. She was getting sleepy and tired of pulling away from him. To add to this, it was a cold night. And Athrun, slightly feverish, made a pretty warm pillow.

Just as she was about to fall asleep, she felt Athrun's weight shift even closer to her. She wasn't able to react immediately. His arms felt through her frame blindly, touching her in places that maybe he shouldn't have, until finally enclosing her body in a tight embrace.

Make no mistake. Athrun was _asleep_. And Cagalli's arm was still sandwiched between his back and the ground.

"Commander, what are you…" she stopped, as Athrun hugged her even tighter. Both of her arms were now restricted, both their heads rested on sand. In this strange captivity, she realized something different about Athrun's back.

_Strange_, she thought. _It feels like sandpaper._

"Mo…ther…"

"Mother?" Cagalli repeated.

_I get it. He's dreaming of his mother._

She didn't even find it in her heart to get mad. There was no malice in his touch. He was just dreaming of his mother, like a little boy…

"Fine, I'll let you do this just this once."

Sound asleep, Athrun couldn't hear a thing.

"But when you wake up and find me in your arms, don't you dare come up with a theory saying I wanted this."

Cagalli was talking to a sleeping rock.

"Oh, what's the use? I'll just explain things to you tomorrow."

Resigning to her fate and the power of fatigue, Cagalli resisted no more and fell asleep.

"Oh well," she mumbled, "at least it's warm."

o+

Thunder and whipping rain woke Athrun up.

"It's raining," he realized. "Now where's Cagal… holy cow!"

Athrun's sudden realization woke Cagalli up.

"What on earth… what happened?"

"You were asleep and you pulled me…" she mumbled feebly. But Athrun, completely racked out of his senses, didn't hear. Frenzied, he sat up, still holding Cagalli, who was dazed in his arms.

"Oh no, I didn't. Did I? No way, I swear I didn't do anything to her before she knocked me out with that tablet. Did anything happen? Damn, how do I check?"

"Don't… even think about it."

That night, Cagalli had been wearing a sleeveless blouse and, for one of the few times in base camp, a skirt. And she did not like the way Athrun was looking at her legs.

"I was trying to get you to a more comfortable sleeping position, and eventually got caught in the position you found me in earlier. There was no way I could free myself. You were perfectly asleep. _Nothing happened_."

"Nothing?"

"Nothing."

"Oh, good," he sighed, relieved. "I was worried I might need to take responsibility for… I don't even want to think about it. That's good. Really good…"

"Commander, are you alright?" Cagalli asked him, seeing him breaking into cold sweat.

Athrun couldn't respond immediately. The repercussions of what he might have done had he been more careless were, to say the least, life-changing. His mind rapidly initiated a scan of what happened immediately before he fell asleep. Taking advantage of a woman demanded the highest penalty, and if he, Zaft's prince, were caught engaging in such bestiality, who knows what could happen?

"It's all right, I won't tell anyone."

"You promise?"

"Yes. I know how many Aprilians are beheaded annually because of rape. Besides, you didn't know what you were doing. I can't blame you. How about we change your bandages?"

Squinting in the dimly lighted curtained cubicle, she searched a nearby basket for a fresh piece of linen.

"Take off your shirt. Let's see how the wound's doing."

Without much thought of it, he took off his sweater. Cagalli started to cut through the linen bandaging half his chest. The deathly arrow piercing was beginning to heal.

"After an ordeal like this," Cagalli told him, cleaning the injured area, "you should be out of action for two more weeks. This ointment stings, are you sure it doesn't hurt?"

"No," he said flatly.

"Please, Commander, there's no need to act all tough in front of me."

"I don't know. I guess it feels like bee stings."

"Bee stings are painful."

"They are? Oh yes, they are. I forgot. Sorry."

A gas lamp was set beside the two, the only source of light. The moon wasn't out anymore.

"Even my brother loses his wits when I use this disinfectant on him."

"Well, maybe he hasn't used it as many times as I have."

"I can see that…"

It was hard to believe someone as young as Athrun could have so many scars. Bits of flesh forever swollen on his skin—they weren't just bits, they were chunks of tissue pushing out of solid muscle. One could still see the stitches peek through them. Just looking at them made Cagalli squirm.

"They say scars make a man more of a man."

Yet it seems that no one, in all his years of fighting, has ever been granted the privilege of maiming his face.

"I think they're just plain ugly. I'm lucky I didn't get one in the face like Yzak did. What do you think?"

"I… I agree…" she fumbled out. The light dimmed and brightened and her reflection came and went in two glossy eyes. She could see herself shrouded in long black lashes, framed in a cooling shade of green.

"The rain!" she popped. "I'll just close the windows. Wait right here."

"The window's heavy. I don't think you can…"

"I was able to drag you here, what makes you think I can't lift a little piece of wood?" Clamping her fingers on a rather thick piece of wood that fitted the window perfectly, Cagalli gave her mightiest heave.

"It didn't even budge! One more time."

"Heh, I told you it was heavy."

"Quiet. Just watch."

"Yes, _ma'am_."

Finally getting the wood a few inches off the ground, she grinned, but strained under the weight.

"You… haven't fully… recovered yet… and you shouldn't… catch a… cold… because of some… stupid… rainfall… hey… Commander… don't… get up… you still have a fever… I don't need…"

What took Cagalli two hands to raise a foot from the ground only took Athrun one hand to snap securely into place.

"Wow," she gasped, "it never ceases to amaze me how strong you are."

"That slab of wood was probably as heavy as my helmet. You could've broken something back there. When you need to lift something that heavy, ask for help."

"You think I can't lift your helmet?" she snapped.

Snickering, he answered, "Have you tried?"

Remembering how Nicol was struggling to dislodge Athrun's head from his helmet, she sighed.

"I weigh twice as much in full armor."

"Doesn't that make moving hard?"

"It used to, but not anymore. Things that used to hurt terribly are just part of the routine now. I've been doing this for a long time."

"How long?"

"Seven years. I was assigned ensign at fourteen. Even Commanders have to start at the lowest rank."

"Fourteen?"

"I know it's a very young age to be fighting wars, but the king insisted that I be trained as soon as I can. Besides, I fared well in military school…"

"Your father made you fight at fourteen?"

"It was a good time to learn how to fight and lead an army," Athrun rebutted, slightly fazed. "Logos' onslaughts were some of the strongest then. Perfect training ground for me, before I could be assigned Commander two years later."

"Commander, no father in his right mind would send his son to war at an age as young as fourteen! Had he gone out of his mind? You could have…"

"My father," he cut her off coldly, "knew what he was doing. His actions are _not_ to be questioned."

For a split second, Athrun looked like a mad dog. This terrified the girl.

"Sorry. I guess it's instinctual. No one ever talks about Zaft's king that way, and gets away with it. The king did it for Zaft's good. The result, as you can see in me, serves its purpose. You understand, don't you?"

He took his seat cross-legged on his mat, waiting for Cagalli to finish tending to his wound. Cagalli was staring at something. It took a while before she took a spot beside him and furnished a fresh piece of linen.

"Commander."

"Yes?"

"Your back. What happened to it?"

"My back?" he cocked his head to see if there was anything wrong with it. "What about it?"

"It's almost like sandpaper."

"Oh that. That's just scar tissue."

"Just scar tissue…" she ruminated, wrapping the cloth on his chest. "When did you get such a nasty burn?"

"Oh that one. Just a little something I got when I was younger."

"How young?"

She had finished bandaging him. Uneasily, Athrun replied, "Do you really want to know?"

"Yes."

"Fourteen. Don't faint."

She didn't faint, but her gaze froze.

"Don't ask me how I survived. I don't know either. I just remember being wrapped in one lieutenant's coat and carried back home."

oooooo

So whaddyada think? Hm.. I'm almost done typing the next chap, and if the reviews come fast, I'll update soon. I need shut-eye…

Before I go, I want to thank Julie, again, for all her time working on the illustrations she gave me, among other things. I'll be posting the pic up in photobucket when it is called for. Approximately 4 chaps from now.

dozes off

zzz…


	20. Darkness is Bliss

Woa, those reviews came fast... thanks! I'm updating quickly this time. Let's just say I found more time in my hands. Anyway, stuff you need to know before you read this chap…

Second part, namely the one starting with the phrase: _A few weeks after_ and ending with: _sleep took him under its wing. _If you really, really like Athrun, and it'd break your heart to see him hurt really bad… oh, and if you freak out big time with gory stuff, don't even think of reading this part. Even I was squirming in my seat when I was reading it, and I wrote it. This part explains how he got the scar you found out about in the last chap. Bow down, for I am the queen of fanfic gore! Muwahaha! Ok, I was kidding. Evil me took over.

Oh, and Cagalli will do "funky" stuff here (can't think of a better word, sorry…). Just to make it clear, there are NO LEMONS in this fic! I will NEVER write one. You just had to know before you think of anything funny when you get to that part. And the first part of this chap.. nah, I just read it and I can license you to read it. I trust that if you've been watching gundam seed, and all its, uhm, not so wholesome scenes, these parts are nothing. Ok, I'll stop rambling now.

Disclaimer: The author of this fic does not own gundam seed/destiny, or its characters, because if I claimed I did, would delete my story—wouldn't it?—and the copyright people will sue me. Any similarities 1from other fics are purely coincidental, and so are any allusions to real events, places and people.

ooooo

Chap 20: Darkness is Bliss

"Darkness is Bliss."

A festival of candles swaying in the wind. Black silhouettes dancing, decked in black robes shielding the chamber from heavenly light, swaying their long, gaunt arms to the symphony of a nocturnal beat…

celebrating a feast of carnal passion.

Amidst those shadows, two brilliant figures emerged—the shadows dare not touch, they deserved no such grace. Their glowing silver skins flickered among the dark shrouds. An ever so faint blanket of white covered their corporeal possessions as they committed this taboo of all mystical taboos. Soon, the light that covered these two souls dissipated, giving in to the shadows' ritual dance, submerging into a sea of black air… slowly, slowly… until all light, once again, remarried into the darkness.

The two figures saw not the face of each other, though only a thin sheet of air separated them. Joining the night's symphony were their incomprehensible murmurs, pumping the beat to which the shadows paced their dance. The two faces would close in, release—a slight inch separating them—and join again. Despite Logos' freezing night, one of them felt on the bed a damp patch of their own sweat, the ceremonial water for this ritual—a renewal of what he and she vowed would last forever.

"No one can see us now. The stars and moon have concealed themselves tonight—even the shadows are on our side. Not this watchful, judgmental world, not your doubtful husband…"

"He maybe my husband, but he is not my love. You are, my Duke…"

Then she whispered a name, so faint, even the shadows grazing the hairs on their bodies couldn't hear. Her voice, mystic and spacious, was engrossing to his ears.

"Darkness is Bliss, all is black, naked in the night."

Behind the oak doors of the queen's chamber, two figures stood, one of which was leaning on a walking cane, and the other pressing her ear against the door.

"Sounds like my Lord and my Lady are having a little fun tonight," the later giggled, her blue eyes glowing. "Maybe we can speak with them tomorrow.

Just as the two figures were about to leave, the oak doors opened wide, revealing the tower of a man who requested their presence. Behind him was, a handsome lady, somewhere in her late twenties. The man spoke, his voice lucid.

"I was expecting you. Please enter, Rey, we have much to discuss."

o+

A few weeks after Athrun had been commissioned ensign of Zaft's army, Logos launched an attack on the northern frontier, where the major city Junius and several neighboring provinces stood. In one of their encounters, Athrun was captured and taken behind enemy lines—right at the border. All that lighted his cold subterranean chamber was a little dim lamp. Two faceless brutes looked at him scornfully.

"Hohoho," the bulkier of them belched. "If it isn't our little buddy from Zaft. How are the dungeons treating you, boy? Feeling comfy?"

"Sh, Raul, we're speaking to a prince here." His skinnier companion seemed to pull his voice from a bagpipe.

"Oh yes, I forgot. Gene, I _certainly _must be in my _best behavior_… my _apologies, _your _Highness_, I was overwhelmed by your… er… _regality._"

"Perhaps you would grant us the liberty of asking you a few questions. First, how many men has your king brought with him?"

His eyes were burning in the dim light.

"Well, say something, boy!" Gene hissed.

"If that doesn't work, maybe this will."

In Raul's hand was a long barbed whip. Athrun's eyes narrowed, knowing full well what that thing could do in the savage's hands.

_Nothing I can't handle, _he told himself.

Behind Raul was a bucket of clear liquid. Athrun thought it was water. Raul let the dripping whip lick fire, lighting the whip ablaze.

"All right kid. If you don't talk… then these flames will make you talk. Don't give yourself a hard time. Your father isn't here. He'll never know," Raul whispered.

"This can get very painful, _little _boy," Gene chimed in. "Your father would understand. Tell him we scared you out of your pants. Wait, you're not wearing pants…"

Their laughter boomed in his ears. He was facing them, chained and stripped—completely stripped—angry eyes burning into beasts sodden with the twisted pleasure of seeing him inhumanly humiliated. Raul knelt down, cupping Athrun's chin in his sweaty hand.

"Won't you talk, boy?"

"What do you think?" Athrun shot back. "We never squeal."

"Really? Too bad. Such a pretty face…"

This massive man ran the back of his hand down Athrun's cheek, rolling to his chin, and cupped the other cheek with his palm. He closed the gap, whispering longingly in his ear.

"Had you not been naked, and had we not known Patrick Zala had no daughters… but nevertheless, you're just as good as the real thing…"

Grinning at the two, Gene asked Raul teasingly, "How does a prince's spit taste like?"

"Just as revolting as everyone else's."

Whatever human character inside of him vanished. Eyes wrathful and gluttonous, he commanded, "Tie him to a pole, anywhere! You'll pay for this, kid…"

Athrun's eyes widened. No mistaking, in them, he was dead scared.

"There's no use calling for your papa, now! Call all the gods you want to, before I scrape every piece of flesh on your pathetic little body!"

The prince was tied to a pole, his back facing the menacing, flaming whip. He closed his eyes, thinking of happy things—his home, gardens, open fields, his mother…

Anything to keep him from submitting to fear and spilling out everything he knew… right before a serrated, searing blade made the first rip on his virgin flesh—pale white and innocent—tearing his back in half.

From that jagged cut, bloodthirsty lashes dug through, all of them merging into two brusque hands pulling his already ripped skin apart. Hot blows seemed to be coming from all sorts of places. Athrun felt morsels of his flesh catapulted in the air, drenched in sizzling blood, before they were toasted in the flames.

"Aww… look Raul, he's crying!"

"Ha, like a baby. Whatever was King Patrick thinking when he sent _you_ to war?"

Small pools had formed at the foot of the post he was tied to. Each blow of that vicious whip sent his tongue shooting off his throat drowned in mortified, pitiful screams.

"Help, Father… Mother… help!"

"And now he's calling for his Papa and Mama. How endearing."

"That's all you are, you brat. A papa's boy… a mama's boy! No one's going to get you out of here now."

Tears and sweat and a red film coating his lines of vision blurred all his senses. Tears came as successively as the blows on his back.

"Hey boy, maybe if you cry a bit more, you'll be able to put out the flames. Raul, what do you think?"

Raul wasn't listening. He was mesmerized by the sharp sound of a hungry whip, the smell of burnt flesh, and the sight of blackened blood boiling on a little boy's back. A mindless monster demanding more flesh to be butchered, Raul took in his hands a long iron bar.

It took a while for Athrun to realize the whipping had stopped momentarily. Devoid of all strength, his bottom sank to the ground, sliding along the pole he was bound to—the cool relieving pole. His hands were shaking. For the first time in his life, Athrun begged the heavens to let him pass out. As if to tease him, the wind, Logos' nocturnal messenger, ran its finger along his still smoking back, sending a jolt of pain bolting him back up.

The wind—it was teasing him. Cruelly.

_It isn't over yet._

Hot white iron burrowed into raw, raked flesh, drilling and pushing and twisting and turning in soft, watery muscle.

"That's it, kid. Burn, burn!"

His soul felt like jumping off his body, anything to escape this hellish punishment dealt by a beastly metal rod. His mind and spirit crushed in unspeakable pain, he wanted to die. His hoarse, dire screams would end. _Help me, help me! _he wanted to say, but pain turned him dumb, wrenching all meaning from his phrases and reducing them to spine-chilling screams.

"Scream, scream, kid!"

"What do you know. Patrick Zala's son screaming like the little girl he is."

His father's name rang in his ears—perhaps the only thing that made sense to him then, the only thing he could make out of his blurred senses.

Patrick Zala… son… screaming… like… girl… 

He remembered his father, Zaft's impenetrable king and Commander.

And he, Athrun Zala, next in line for the throne of the most powerful man in the world's most powerful country, was screaming like a girl.

_Screaming… like… a… girl…_

Athrun didn't know how many times the whip hit his back, or for how long the pole was stuck on it. Blankly looking at the floor, he remained perfectly still. His hands weren't shaking anymore.

"Hey, Raul, is he dead?"

"Not yet, he's still breathing." Seeing the hot iron was no longer serving its purpose of making the boy scream, Raul pulled out the rod, _carelessly_ setting it on the floor.

They unbound the lad and threw him back first into the grimy floor.

"Last words kid?" Raul asked lazily. "Maybe you'd like to give us some useful tips before you die."

To their shock, the boy, with his bleeding blistered back, smirked.

"Idiots."

When two guards heard grown men screaming, they dashed down into the dungeons, breaking the locked door open. All they saw next was a black blade closing into their necks, beheading the both of them at once. The iron bar still smeared with Athrun's blood was still warm, now stuck into Raul's eye, piercing all the way through his skull. Behind Raul was Gene, the same pole driven into his mouth, puncturing the back of his head. Both men were nailed to the wall, one of top of the other, with towering Raul hanging at least a foot from the ground.

How far Athrun had ran beheading people on the way, he didn't know. When his legs couldn't carry him anymore, he collapsed on the ground. Soon, a strange, tingling sensation came to visit him. It was the rain.

Pattering on his back, it cooled his mangled flesh. Blood still oozed from the torn vessels, but the rain washed it away.

It's cleaning my wound… 

"Thank you," he mumbled. From the corner of his eye, he could make out two familiar silhouettes. The familiar waterproof feel of a Zaft coat cut him off from the rain. Before he could rebel, sleep took him under its wing.

o+

"But that was a long time ago," Athrun comforted Cagalli, seeing how she wasn't moving anymore. "Maybe I shouldn't have told you…"

"What did you father say?"

"He asked the doctors when I could get back to the battlefield. The doctors said they didn't know, he nodded and left."

"What did your mother say?"

"Mother?"

His mother only gave him happy memories. "I couldn't make out a thing my mother was saying. To say the least, she was hysterical."

o+

Late summer had never felt so hot. After his horrible ordeal behind enemy lines, Athrun woke up in his bedroom in their Junius resthouse, dizzy, stiff and steaming with a fever.

Several blisters marauded on his back. Even a soft mattress didn't help. From the foot of his bed, his father looked over him.

"Father," he whispered, "have you been watching over me?"

"How long will you keep him in bed?"

"Around a week, your Highness."

"He'll be up and going in a week?"

"Your Highness, his injury is severe, we advise he rests for at least a month…"

"I asked you if he would be able to wear his armor and carry his sword in a week's time."

His father spoke with his usual rigor. The lady doctor froze.

"We don't know, your Highness."

"Very well. That's all I needed to know."

The king would have exited the room without another word, had Athrun not called his attention.

"Father, my back still hurts."

Patrick, with his back straight and never-yielding, answered.

"It's all in your head. Get over it."

With that, the door slammed at their faces. After a hearty meal and a dosage of painkillers, Athrun found his mother peeking through the door.

"Miss Aisha, Lt. Waltfeld, you may leave me. Mother's here."

On their way, Lt. Waltfeld opened the door for the queen, who sat on her son's bed by his side.

"Athrun, thank goodness you're awake."

"Yes," he smiled weakly. His mother smiled in return. "But, mother, have you slept? You look like you haven't slept in a week."

"This is nothing, I was just worried you would…"

"I would?"

"Oh, don't mind it. Is there anything I can get for you?"

"No, just stay here…"

Dark lines framed her eyes. Athrun knew she must have lain awake for days.

"Or get some sleep. You look like you need it. You're not as strong as you used to be; don't push yourself too much."

Snickering, his mother asked, "Are you implying, young man, that your mother is an old hag?"

"No!"

"Then don't worry about me," she patted his hair. "Your mother's tough, too. Just like you. I know. Let me make you your favorite cup of tea."

The scent of tea leaves, simmering on a pot, was refreshing.

"Would you like some milk in it?"

"Thank you, Mother."

The teacup in her fingers glistened in the morning light.

"Mother, I… I… can't get up."

With her gentle hands, Lenore lifted her son's back so he could sit up. By mistake, her fingers pressed on one of the blisters. It must have popped, sending the rest of his body shaking from the pain.

"Athrun, what happened?"

Even his mother's dulled nails felt like steel spikes.

"Please… call Miss Aisha… I think I need… the painkiller again… hurry…"

Panicked, Lenore searched the house for the lady doctor. When she returned, she panted, "Lady Aisha left a few minutes ago. I've already sent someone to call her back. Hang on for a bit longer."

Words fell on his ears like chicken soup. His head felt like a balloon being squished by two walls of water. Nausea was the least of his troubles—the agonizing sensation of blisters popping with the slightest of movements pained him beyond what his sanity could grasp. In a vain effort to alleviate the pain, he tried to recall the rain, how it softly tended his wound. Cool fingers washing the blood away…

A similar pattering on his back mimicked the sensation he longed for. The same, yet fewer drops fell on his back, the same way the rain did.

"I'm sorry… I'm so sorry… I can't do anything… to ease the pain…"

Aisha and Lt. Waltfeld came bursting into the room. To Aisha's surprise, the prince sent them away.

"I'm alright, Miss Aisha. My back… doesn't hurt anymore."

"But your Highness, you need this painkiller… Please, Prince, don't stand up!"

"Mother, stop crying… it doesn't hurt anymore, see? I can walk around… now. I was just… fooling around… playing a joke… like I always do…"

Limping shakily, Athrun approached his mother, whom Lt. Waltfeld was comforting. The queen felt a hand on her shoulder. More tears spilled from her gentle green eyes…

Green eyes Athrun got from her.

When she raised her head, she found Athrun with a big, mischievous grin.

"I'm a pretty good actor, don't you think?"

o+

"Then my mother hugged me tightly. She forgot, again, that my back was killing me. They had to give me a barrage of painkillers, and Mother wouldn't stop crying. Hey, don't laugh. I had to live with painkillers for a year."

The rain was still coming down in torrents.

"Damn. The light went out."

"I'll get a match."

"No, it ran out of gas."

"Oh."

"Just stay still. One of the soldiers should come to refill it. Any second now."

There was nothing to hear but the rain, the wind, neighing horses, and a dripping ceiling.

"You're suddenly quiet. Hey, I'm talking to you. Commander?"

Feeling through the dark, she searched for his figure. Something was wrong. When she made contact, she felt her hand burn.

"Commander!"

o+

Just as the doctors told King Patrick, it only took Athrun one week to walk steadily again. It was still a strenuous task. Lt. Waltfeld had been updating him of the battle's recent developments.

"Don't think of it too much," the lieutenant told him. "Concentrate on getting better."

Closed eyes secluded from all sensation, save for the chirping sound of crickets and the crisp night breeze. He often enjoyed summer nights. The wind wasn't as cold as it usually was in the North, and its humid fingers seemed to moisten his cheeks. But that night, the wind was dry and freezing, scratching his back with its brittle blue nails.

Up in the balcony, Athrun saw his parents talking.

"Are you asking me to send him back to the capital?"

His mother nodded.

"You know full well I can't do that."

"Why?" Her mother's voice was hoarse.

"He'd lose the perfect opportunity. This is a chance to prove himself to the army."

Athrun's small eyes, half-open, bulged.

"He survived, that's enough to turn heads. If he gathers the strength to fight, he'll have their respect."

"But he's already done that countless of times," Lenore pleaded, "and he'll do it countless more times. But not now. Patrick, please listen, he's crying every night…"

"Your son is not crying."

"But you're not here when he does…"

"My son will _not_ cry. Ever."

There was something different about his father that night, or maybe because those words his father spoke were unfamiliar. His father wasn't always this cold to him. He could remember times when his father would take him on horseback rides across the open fields. He was too young to ride his own horse back then, so his father strapped him securely to his chest, and off they would go, rumbling full speed across the plains. His mother would always be smiling, saying she'd be making their favorite cup of tea when they got back.

But those days had long passed. Since he entered military school, horseback rides with his father had become next to never, and if there ever were a chance, it would be in a formal presentation for the military.

That night, the seared flesh of his back searched for that warmth—the warmth of his broad, sturdy chest. They were sweet, those two last words from his father's lips.

_My son…_

"It's alright, Mother. My back doesn't hurt anymore."

Lenore was surprised to learn that Athrun had been listening. Patrick wasn't the least bit surprised.

"Your Highness," Athrun turned to his father, "shouldn't you be at base camp right now? I've heard from Lt. Waltfeld that the battle has grown fierce. You cannot afford to not be there with your men."

Taking his helmet and sword in sling, he motioned to leave.

"You were right. It was all in my head. I feel nothing now."

A small smile, almost indistinguishable from the way his lips normally were, scurried into his face. This made Athrun's heart jump up and down.

"I'm expecting you at the battlefield, young man."

Two light, brisk taps on one shoulder. No matter how slight the contact was, the warmth of his father's hand filled him.

"Yes, Father."

But seeing the frown on his father's face, young, fourteen-year old Prince Athrun took it back.

"Yes… Commander."

o+

Hands. He was longing for hands. Hands that were warm, hands that were cold, any pair of hands that could rub his throbbing temples, maybe relieve him of the pain or possibly to remove it completely.

Then he found them. A pair of hands cool to his touch—he was burning with a fever. They were smaller than his… incomparably smaller than his father's… and just a little smaller than his mother's. Slender hands callused by training with a sword. A pair of very familiar hands—he just couldn't place where he met them first.

They were a woman's hands, but he could fell the big and tiny nubs on them. Their nails were dulled so they won't break when these hands swung a sword. He let the tips of his fingers run along the skin of those hands. It cooled him—the slightest graze of touch. Savoring this sweet escape from the heat, he searched for the source of these cool soothing hands.

The source was just behind him. Slowly letting those two cool hands slip on the skin of his face, he leaned back and landed on something soft. As he had hoped the sensation was wonderful. He wanted more. This coolness, in his heated delirium, was all over him now. He leaned further. The coolness from two small points had grown, draping him in a silk shroud. Immersed in what felt like a waterbed, he let his body slide on this cool, slippery shroud. The coolness seemed to tickle his skin with a light finger made of pure air whispering into his ear a myriad of murmurs: a lullaby.

Finally, his head landed on something soft and supple. The coolness embracing him blinded his mind, just like the darkness did his eyes.

Cagalli was, to say the least, mortified, her shirt still wet from Athrun's sweat. A full-grown man and his sweaty head had just pressed on her breasts, slid down her tummy, and landed on her lap. She wanted to shove Athrun off that very instant—maybe stuff in him a dagger or two—but before she could, Athrun stirred. She could feel his head moving in his lap, as if to get more comfortable.

"You know, if my father saw me right now, he'd tell me this was all in my head, and that I should get up and make rounds."

She was shaking in fury, running in her head, _Commander, GET OFF ME! _ dozens of times per fleeting second.

"But my head hurts. And my fever is frying my brain golden brown…"

_He's sick, Cagalli. He's not thinking straight. Forgive him, _she told herself. "Can I get you an ice bag?"

"No. I like your hands better."

He picked up her hands, and cupped them to his cheeks. Cagalli twitched upon feeling the heat. He was too hot. He needed medication.

"I really should get you medication, Commander. Please let me go."

"No. I don't need… another tablet… for you to knock me out… I'll be fine in… a few minutes I'll… I'll just… put my head together… give me a moment…"

"You're still thinking of getting up?"

"I need to… I've slept too… long… could you just… thanks…"

Her fingers now swerved up and down, revolving around two tiny points on his forehead. Two hands weren't enough to cool him down.

"I should really get you something to cool the fever. Please let me get up…"

"No… I already told you… I'll be… I'll be fine in a few minutes… Just let me… stay here…"

_Searing hot_, she mumbled. Her fingers were beginning to hurt, and the rest of him was also burning.

"Your hands… they're not just cool. They're… cold…"

The rest of her was. The damp air of an evening downpour blew frost on her back. Athrun's head kept her hands and her lap warm, but the rest of her still shivered.

"Yes, it is kind of… cold. What are you…"

"I'm warm. Or at least I think I am. What do you think?"

Pressure shifted from her lap, crawling up her tummy, and finally settling on her chest, treating it like a pillow. In complete darkness, the sensation gave her goose bumps.

It was like talking to someone else.

"You're not just warm. You're hot. Burning hot."

"And you're freezing cold. Maybe if I stay this way, it won't be so hot or so cold… anymore. That's a fair trade, isn't it? Please, you won't feel the cold so much."

This time, he took both of her arms and wrapped these around him. His arms felt like heated iron oiled with sweat. She jerked from the heat. It was too hot.

"Sorry… I think… I'm asking for too much… I'll just lay down for a while… and maybe get up later… to make… rounds…"

Slowly, she felt his weight move away. The heat faded and strengthened—he was wobbling to and fro, trying to stand up.

Losing his balance, he collapsed, landing on something soft. It reminded him, in a blurred vision, of how he laid in the rain, relishing its cool fingers as it washed away the blood from his back…

Fingers that, this time, grew into hands. They lifted him up—he couldn't believe someone had the strength to lift him up—and rested him on a cool pillow. It smelled so familiar.

"That's right. It's you, Mother. It was you all along."

Answering him was a soft giggle. "I guess I and your mother share so much in common. I didn't know she liked white lilies, too."

Hearing a voice not of her mother's, Athrun's eyes flew open. He was dazed, but he could make out whose voice it was, and he figured just how infuriated she must be right now.

"Ca… Cagalli! I… I'm sorry… I didn't know… I… I wasn't being myself… I… I…"

His eyes, bulging in panic, relaxed upon feeling cool hands once more soothing his temples.

"It's alright. You don't have to be yourself right now."

"But Cagalli, this is a very bad position to be in… it's against the law…. and…"

"It's against the law if it is against my will."

"Against the law if… what… what if someone sees?"

"No one will see… it's completely dark. No one can see you now. Not even I can."

She held him closer, a gesture to silence him.

"You're sick. You need this. So take it… it's yours, for now."

"What's mine?"

"Me."

"What?" His eyes widened again. "Wha… what are you saying?"

"Now don't think of anything stupid, stupid. I'm giving you myself for now, because I want to help you. You can't see me now. So right now, picture me as someone else."

"Someone… else?"

"Yes. Or something. The rain…. Or your mother. I'll pretend you're someone… or something else, too. A pillow, or my brother. Good idea, don't you think?"

A little voice pounded on Athrun's ears. _It's all in your head… It's all in your head…_

_Get over it!_

"That's not good… I have to watch over things… it's my job to… besides… one of the soldiers… should be coming up now to…"

"Then while you're asleep, I'll watch things over for you."

"You can't do that."

"What, you think I can't?"

"No. If you stay awake, then it won't be a fair game anymore."

His weight pressed on her breast more, gradually. He mumbled, drifting into sleep.

"I won't be a good pillow… pillows are for sleeping…"

This made Cagalli giggle. And that put a smile on Athrun's lips.

"Good. It's good to hear you laugh."

"Oh? Why?"

"It's the least I can do… to thank you for this…"

His brain was a bowl of slush. _Who were you again? Do you know who I am? _he asked her inwardly. But his lips moved not. He would settle for this anonymity, cradled in anonymous arms, there in the darkness.

Darkness is bliss, all is black, naked in the night.

o+

The rain had completely stopped. Athrun woke up in Cagalli's arms, and found her sound asleep.

_The lamp_, he recalled. Soon, someone would come and fill their lamp with oil. Then a match would wave light into the starkly black room.

_Damn! _he thought. _If he finds me in this spot… what would all the men say?_

Unfortunately for Athrun, steps were practically inaudible in the damp earth, and his droopy senses would be of little help.

"Lt. Westenfluss? Capt. Almalfi? Lt. Joule? Lt. Elsman! What are you all peeking at the Commander's cubicle for? Is there something wr… holy cow!"

Shinn almost dropped the pitcher of oil he was holding. Dearka bolted out of his hiding and pulled him to the other side of the door.

Athrun could hear Shinn gag under the lieutenant's grasp. Panicked, he had forgotten to move.

"Sh! You'll wake up half of base camp."

"But Lt.! The Commander… he was…"

"Oh, don't make such a fuss out of little things."

"Little? Lt., that was harassment!"

"No it isn't!" Dearka struggled to keep Shinn from charging into the Commander's cubicle.

"Sir, I know he's sick and all, but that doesn't give him the license to take advantage of her!"

"Ensign Asuka, that's a rather extreme accusation against your commanding superior. Are you not aware of the repercussions if such charges are proven false?" Dusting himself, Athrun got up, his back straight.

"I was dizzy, apparently, I fainted, she might've tried getting me to a more comfortable sleeping position, lost her balance, tripped, and I ended up falling on her. No, I don't think she has the power to lift me off her. Doesn't that sound like a plausible explanation?"

"Well, yes, Sir, but you can't blame me for thinking of these things, considering that she _is _a woman, and that, no matter how cold you can be to her kind, you are still a ma…"

"Ensign, we're all trying to get some sleep here. The lamp need not be lighted. You're dismissed. Go. Tuck yourself in bed. Sleep. Never bother me again."

_Never bother me again. _ "Now that's something you never tell me. Something I shouldn't know? Or something you don't _want_ me to know?"

Seeing how hard Athrun was trying to restrain himself from squishing Shinn's teasing grin, Dearka thought he'd spin his friend a way out of this conversation.

"It's not what you think, Ensign. Cagalli was just… er… giving him exigent medical attention."

Shinn stopped, processing what Dearka had said. Athrun spun back to his mat, smiling secretly behind his covers. Until…

"Wait. Now how did you know that?"

"What?" Dearka asked. Behind his covers Athrun cursed him silently.

"The Commander said he fainted and… he never said anything about being given any medication. Besides, do you really need to be in that position to give ample treatment? And the way he was on top of her.. it was too contrived, damn it! Physics will tell you that's not how people fall on top of each other! And above all, HE WAS AWAKE! Why didn't he get off her?"

Athrun was just listening beneath his covers, wide-eyed.

"Are you taking me for a fool? And please, are you covering up for him? Lt., you know full well how these actions meet the highest reprimand in the court marshal, and even if you are his closest friends, even the Commander himself would condemn himself for such vile…"

"That's enough, Ensign."

"Commander, what do you want me to think?"

"Do you seriously think I'd take advantage of a woman?"

"Well… just because the most probable answer is no doesn't mean it _is_ the answer!"

"I'll ask you again," he pressed firmly. "_Do you think I, in my right mind, would take advantage of a woman?_"

A gulp in his dry throat, Shinn answered, "Considering that not one woman in Zaft seems to catch your attention, the answer should be…"

Athrun waited impatiently for the answer.

"No."

"Good. Then that's settled." Athrun pushed Shinn out of the cubicle.

"But Sir…"

"What?"

"You're not exactly in your right mind right now, are you?"

The door was at least 10 meters away. Dearka and the rest of the lieutenant had no idea how Athrun had dragged Shinn out of the stables, but whatever he did, it seemed to have silenced his haughty subordinate.

"That should keep his mouth zipped for the next few days," Athrun muttered as he walked back to his cubicle. He found all three lieutenants staring at him. "Everyone, it's not what you think."

"Really?" Yzak huffed.

"Don't tell me you actually believe the ensign's accusation," Heine raised one brow passively.

Yzak rolled his eyes.

"Yzak! You know I'd never do anything like that."

"Athrun, it's alright," Nicol chirped, coming back into the cubicle with the lamp he left outside. "If you're happy, we're happy. Right, everyone?"

Dearka nodded quickly, a big, happy grin on his face. Heine only smiled, nodding as well. Yzak just rolled his eyes.

"Yzak…" Nicol scolded him.

"Fine, I guess he deserves it every now and then."

"What can I say, he had to give in at some point."

"True."

"But I can't believe it took her less than a month. We've been setting him up with so many girls for years!"

"Ah, Dearka, it's the power of…"

"The power of what?" Yzak cut Dearka and Heine's reverie.

"What else, Yzak? It's the power of…"

Both Heine and Dearka breathed in, sighing dreamily.

"Lo…"

"The three of you are dismissed. That's an order."

"Athrun!" Dearka was all smiles. "Don't spoil the fun!"

His stare deathly against the flickering light, Athrun muttered angrily, "Do not forget for a moment that I _am_ your commanding officer. Now leave!"

"Yes, _Sir_, as you wish." Taking tip-toe steps meant to tease his friend, Dearka kept squeaking out, "Bye, bye. Bye bye!" as he exited the room.

"I'll be off too, Commander, have a wonderful night with… I mean, sleep well, Athrun." At least Heine was being nice. He simply left the room. But as soon as they were out of the door, Athrun could hear him laughing.

Without another word, Yzak walked out.

"Don't mind Yzak," Nicol tried to comfort Athrun. "He's just jealous. You know girls don't love him half as much as they love you. And you know Heine and Dearka love to tease you for not having a girlfriend and for never having one since… well, you never had one. Don't mind them, they're just happy you've finally made an intimate relationship with a girl. Hey, I didn't say it was a romantic relationship. I said it was _intimate. _You know, like a really close friend. Uhm, Athrun, are you listening?"

Athrun spun to face him, rather upset. Nicol's "innocent" smile isn't going to put smiles on him now.

"What did you see?"

"Oh, me? Nothing. Absolutely nothing."

"Wrong question. How long have you been listening?"

"Uhm…" Nicol squinted as if to think.

"Tell the truth."

"Oh well. Since she knocked you out with that tablet."

"And you didn't help her get off me?"

"Well," Nicol was stuttering as Athrun looked at him passively. "She fell asleep. And I think she was treating you like a pillow. We couldn't find it in our hearts to wake either one of you up."

Sighing, Athrun threw a glance at Cagalli, who didn't seem the least bit disturbed from her slumber.

"Well, this was a first," Nicol lifted Cagalli, placing her on a mat he had laid on the ground. "There, she should be more comfortable."

"A first… for what?"

"The first time you opened up to a girl."

Seeing Athrun's forehead curl up again, Nicol snickered, "and the first time you told anyone what _really _happened to you when Logos held you captive. Even _we _didn't know you were stripped naked when Logos tortured you. And I don't think anyone else knows."

"Lt. Waltfeld and Lt. Todaka found me naked. Of course, they know. They probably told Mother, and the king was probably informed, too."

"But _you _never told them. You never told anyone. Until now."

Athrun fell silent. Nicol was right.

"You never told _us._ Yzak was saying, 'I knew the scar was bad, but I didn't know it was _that _bad!' or something like that. It took the three of us to keep him from charging into the cubicle."

With a tap of a lighted match, another lamp woke up from its slumber.

"We didn't want to stop her. It was a chance to make you spill out the beans. A chance to make you spit out the things you wouldn't tell us."

Taking one last glance at the sleeping girl, Nicol smiled, seemingly contented.

"Nicol," Athrun called him back, just before he could leave, "we can talk. There would be time after the Crusade. What do you think?"

His smile grew gently.

"That would be nice. Go back to sleep, Athrun. You'll need you strength in the morning."

o+

"Sorry. Did I wake you up?"

"Commander?" Cagalli squinted, her eyes hurt by the return of the lamp's light. Nicol had left a while ago. "What are you doing sitting up?"

"I'm fine. I'm not dizzy anymore."

"Don't tell me… you're going to make rounds at this hour."

"No, if I do that, I'll just wake up the soldiers. I'll do that tomorrow."

"Hey, I told you… to rest for the next two days. Follow… doctor's orders…"

Cagalli was only half-awake. Most of the other things she said didn't make sense.

"Go back to sleep," Athrun told her. "I won't leave. I'll just be sitting here. I'll take your advice to stay put for the next two days."

"Oh, good, finally… you're so stubborn… it's annoying…"

Athrun let out a laugh. She was saying random things.

He was getting sleepy, again. The cold didn't bother him. He felt his forehead; the fever was gone.

Looking at Cagalli, he noticed she was shivering, mumbling, "Cold… it's cold…"

Athrun took out another blanket. This he threw on Cagalli. Still, she kept shivering, staying it was still cold.

Athrun didn't know what to do.

"Cagalli, maybe I should get you some medicine," he knelt down by her side, feeling her forehead to check if she had a fever. "Strange, you don't have one. Why, it's not _that_ cold."

"I'm cold… cold…"

"You already have all the blankets, all right? What else could I give you?"

"Cold… cold…"

Sighing, Athrun, who had been kneeling beside her, motioned to get up to find a doctor that could help her. From behind, he felt her tugging his arm.

"This… is warm…"

To his surprise, she wrapped his arm with hers, embracing it tightly. She was pulling him down to his knees. He thought she wanted him to stay.

"This is warm. This will do just fine."

_Alright, Athrun, don't panic,_ he yelped inwardly. Fully conscious, this was not a position he'd prefer to be in. _She's not herself right now, don't think of anything stupid!_

Thinking nothing bad could possibly come out of this, Athrun laid down, taking her in his arms. She could hear her snuggle in his embrace. His face, lighted by a reddish gold glow, was distinguishably pink.

Worried someone other than his four friends would burst in, Athrun couldn't sleep a wink. He lay with his back facing the door, making sure Cagalli, sleeping in his arms, would be hidden from anyone's view.

Stupid him. He forgot to put his shirt on.

oooooo

Again, no funny thinking about how the author comes up with this. I just have a really—dare I take the honor—creative imagination. And I've been working with this chap for almost two weeks, so yeah… I thought of the scenes for a long time. To reinforce my point, read the disclaimer. This is a work of FICTION, which means I am messing up your perspective of reality. Hope this was.. well.. fluffy enough. Thanks for everyone who've been reviewing and reading. See ya.


	21. Maximum Tolerance

Gosh, these chaps are getting long. I tried cutting it up but... oh well. Hm, this, compared with the rest of this fic, is supposed to be funny. I suck at comedy, so i hope my attempt this time would be successful. Enjoy. This time, I MEAN IT.

Disclaimer: The author of this fic does not own gundam seed/destiny, or its characters, because if I claimed I did, would delete my story—wouldn't it?—and the copyright people will sue me. Any similarities from other fics are purely coincidental, and so are any allusions to real events, places and people.

ooooo

Chap 21: Maximum Tolerance

Solemn was the solitude of the army's peaceful slumber half a mile from Sabadoa. The day before, they had just claimed Huwebo after a short struggle against their army.

"Heh, can anyone call that a struggle?"

The Commander had told him Huwebo would not take many resources to conquer, but Shinn never expected things to go this smoothly. When the two armies faced, the Huweban king raised the white flag even before Athrun could unsheathe his sword. Just before Shinn could grab some much-desired shut-eye, a screeching, haughty voice disrupted the evening's serenity.

"If you don't let me through, I'll report this monstrosity to the king!"

"At least give us your name, Sir," entered Nicol, who was probably one of the few soldiers who had the patience to deal with this man. "So we can announce your presence… er… formally…"

"Why, what took you so long to ask?" the guest bellowed in a proud, "elegant" manner fitting only for him. "I am the noblest of all nobles, the most scholarly of all scholars, the most eloquent of all speakers, a god of wisdom, the arts, profundity, and—how can I forget?—_beauty_…"

Disgusted, Shinn thought, _Just spit it out._

"Bow down, mortals, for I am…"

Shinn plugged two fingers in his ears, running in his head, _Disillusioned freak._

"Yuuna… Roma… Seiran…_Viscount _of Sabadoa,son of Unato… Ema… Seiran…"

And so began the long list of family members Yuuna started to enumerate proudly. A hundred glares boring on his back, and he didn't care.

"And now that you know me, Yuuna Roma Seiran, _Viscount_ of Sabadoa, acknowledge my supreme authority over all of you and tell me. _Where is Athrun Zala?_"

"He's asleep."

This arrogant nitwit was getting on Shinn's nerves.

"Just who do you think you are, barging in on us like this? In the middle of the night!"

"Are you deaf? Have you not heard how I so eloquently stated my distinguished title?"

"You just don't get it, do you? You are in Zaft's base camp—_our_ base camp. This is not Sabadoa, Sir, and you, as a matter of fact, do not wield any authority here whatsoever. You have no right to order us around!"

"I say, I say! Such proud…" Yuuna smirked, circling the spot Shinn stood, "such daring words from a soldier boy. Very, very good!"

"Soldier boy?" Shinn burst. "Take that back."

"Now why would I lower myself to the level of a peasant pipsqueak like you? Now tell me, where is your Commander?"

"That's it. Off with your filthy, disgusting head!" Shinn cried, drawing a dagger from his belt. But just before Yuuna could see the gleaming blade…

"Compose yourself, Ensign. Let's not have unnecessary bloodshed for something so trivial."

It was Athrun, somewhere in the crowd. Impatient, Yuuna shoved everyone out of his way, sending curses buzzing from the soldiers.

"Where are you, Athrun Zala? Why hide among your men? Scared of me? Come on Zala, I won't bite!"

Shinn shook his head in disbelief. "Does he not realize who he is talking to?"

"No, Ensign, apparently not."

Lt. Le Creuset revealed himself, standing so that he had full view of the Commander, who was rather confused himself, obviously pulled out of bed.

_This will certainly test your patience, Commander,_ Le Creuset thought. _Let's see how you deal with the world's most foolish ambassador. _

Meanwhile, Yuuna kept shoving aside soldiers, who followed basic military protocol and implemented what was best for someone like Yuuna—maximum tolerance. At some point, Yuuna found himself before one of the younger men in the crowd, a lone figure standing right in his way.

Outraged by this "blasphemy", Yuuna grabbed the Zaft soldier by the neckline of his shirt.

"You! Who do you think you are? Why are you in my way? I know, maybe you know where Athrun Zala is. Tell me. Where is he?"

"Sir, he's right in front of you," the man answered in a calm, slightly confused tone.

"He is? Where? WHERE? I've been looking for him all over this wretched place."

"He's right in front of you."

"Where? WHERE?" Yuuna shook the young man's lean frame as his eyes rolled back and forth. No one was standing behind the young man.

"Sir…" the man waved his hand at Yuuna's face, trying to get his attention. "I'm over here."

"You?" Yuuna snarled, apparently disgusted. "It is not you I seek. Where is Athrun Zala?"

"You're talking to him."

"I'm talking to you! Not Athrun Zala!"

"But _I'm _Athrun Zala."

Yuuna stooped down, eyeing the young man's flat belly, rigid chest, and ice-cold stare.

"You? You're Athrun Zala?"

"Yes. I believe there was something you wanted to tell me."

Among base camps flickering torches, Yuuna's countenance changed from shocked to unbelieving to disgusted to constipated…

to sharp hateful shrieks of laughter.

"Are you kidding me? You're just a kid!"

A tiny crease on Athrun's face—atypical of the countenance he'd normally put up in situations like this.

"Look," Yuuna broke in his laughing fit, "I know I scared your Commander off his pants…"

"What?" Shinn burst, about to leap forward. "Scared? Of you? Just who do you think you are, you…"

"Ensign." Athrun commanded him to hold back. "This does not need your interference. That goes for all of you."

Yuuna was so consumed in laughter, he did not notice it was the same voice that commanded Shinn not to kill him earlier.

"But please, I just want to talk to him," Yuuna laughed his way into saying.

"_You are talking to him_..." Athrun said coldly. "I'll ask you again, is there something you want to tell me?"

"No, seriously, let me talk to him. Please, don't embarrass yourself anymore, young man. Just take me to your Commander."

"I'll ask you again, _and for the last time_," he said darkly. "Is there something you want to tell Zaft's Commander?"

Finally, Yuuna's laughter died down, leaving him a dried up balloon gasping for air.

"Sorry, young man… that joke, of you being Athrun Zala… was just too… God, I should stop… I mean, it was just hilarious!"

"Joke?" Yzak growled, listening from a distance with the rest of the lieutenants. "That imbecile's the biggest joke I've ever seen!"

"Patience is a virtue, Lt. Joule," Heine whispered.

"Patience has its limits. This man is going overboard!" Yzak replied angrily.

Shinn agreed. "How can the Commander stand this guy? Why doesn't he just cut off his head?"

Discreetly amused by the young ones' commotion, Le Creuset thought a little advice from an oldie would help.

"The Commander is a very patient man. You, Ensign, should be acquainted with that."

"It is true, Sir, that I can be highly argumentative in my Commander's presence…" Shinn defended himself.

_Such fine words from him, for a change,_ Dearka commented.

"But never… never will I insult him the way this moron does!" roared an enraged ensign, rushing full speed at a still incapacitated Yuuna, only to be held back by two lieutenants.

o+

_How long does this man plan to waste my time?_ Athrun thought.

Yuuna had been laughing for the last five minutes. He was so red, he reminded Athrun of an overripe, oversized tomato.

"Oh my, have you been muted, young man? Fear of my great, glorious physique? Or my charming good looks? He could have at least picked someone who _looked_ the part. Someone grand and noble… someone spectacular… terrifying… awe-inspiring…"

"What was he expecting Athrun to look like?" Heine wondered. "Oh, wait, let me guess…"

"Someone… like… me," Yuuna let the words fall slowly in his sweaty lips.

"I knew it."

"Good looks? When was the last time he looked at a mirror?" Dearka snarled.

"Noble? Grand? _Spectacular?_" Yzak burst. "Spectacularly stupid, that is!"

"Maybe he's farsighted," Nicol reasoned, "or nearsighted. Please, Dearka, Yzak, keep in mind. Maximum tolerance must be exercised at all times."

"_Maximum… tolerance_…" Each word seemed to have been shredded through Yzak's gritting teeth. "Fine…"

"Look at you. The way you're dressed, you… you're a peasant, for goodness' sake! Sack-clothes? How crude. Poor leather shoes, cheap trousers, at least he could have given you something fitting for a prince! And pllleeease! He could have chosen someone bigger. You look like you're about to snap in half, literally! Couldn't he have picked a bigger guy? There are a lot of big guys in this bunch… oh, I get it. You' re all scared of me, aren't you? Haha, scaredypants!"

"Scared? Scared of you?" Heine cried out. Heine was normally just as cool-headed as Nicol was, but Yuuna was going too far. "_Our Commander scared of you?_ That's it, everyone! Off with his hea…"

"Heine!" Nicol silenced him. This guy's patience is unreal. "You should know better. The Commander's orders were not to interfere!"

Orders were orders, and Athrun's orders were absolute. _Say something, Athrun,_ Heine thought. _Only say the word and we'll tear him to bits!_

Despite all this raucousness, Athrun remained amazingly composed. His face was betrayed by no expression, trained by years of teaching himself that emotions must never overcome rationale. Then again, one must always be reminded. Patience had its limits.

"Right…" Yuuna laughed his way into saying. "You're so slim, I almost mistook you for a girl a minute ago!"

Silence. Utter silence.

Nicol repeated the words in his head.

_A girl_?

He repeated the words again. They just didn't jive.

_Mistaken? For a girl? The Commander?_

No matter how patient, how gentle of a fellow Nicol was, he was bound to blow.

"Athrun Zala mistaken for a girl?" Nicol muttered under his breath, clasping his sword's handle. "Does this goofball not realize that hundreds of men are waiting… _just waiting_… to slice his head off?"

"Maximum tolerance, Nicol," Heine reminded him, cracking his knuckles.

"Maximum tolerance does not apply to _this _idiot," Nicol mumbled angrily. The dark lines beneath his eyes, devoid of sleep, darkened even more, along with the rest of the army's faces. In the air floated a cloud of incomprehensible murmurs merged into one reverberating chant.

_Commander, forget maximum tolerance. Just say it… off with his head… off with his head… _

It filled the air—a ghastly, ominous chant.

_OFF WITH HIS HEAD!_

Still, Yuuna refused to take notice of all of this. He was consumed in the belly of laughter; can anyone blame him?

"Right… You're so pretty, all you need to do is put a skirt on, and I bet everyone here will fall in love with you. The army's muse! Isn't that charming?"

"Stop saying that," Shinn mumbled, drawing out his dagger again. No one was stopping anyone now.

As he watched Athrun's expression, which, for the first time since this blockhead showed up, was absolutely baffled, Nicol muttered, "Just give us the order, Commander, and we'll chop him to pieces. To bits. To smithereens!"

_One word from Athrun Zala's lips_, they all thought in unison. _And you… are… dead!_

Unfortunately, Yuuna was just too stupid to get the message.

"Honestly, how could he? How could he pass off for himself such a cutesy, dorky, girly-looking lad like you?"

That was it. Their patience was blown to bits, obliterated, dispersed into oblivion. All the soldiers drew their weapons—anything sharp and pointed they could get their hands on—and started advancing at Yuuna, who was still overwhelmed in laughter.

"Girly-looking? The Commander? How dare you!"

"No one insults the Commander that way!"

"Die, you bastard. Everyone, attack!"

In this mutiny against maximum tolerance, the army transformed into an aggressing mass of flesh and fabric, unstoppable…

Until Athrun Zala says the word and makes them stop.

"_Patience_," he bellowed, in the same voice that launched the army's onslaughts, "is a virtue. Don't ever forget that."

Gritting their teeth as hard as ever, the soldiers restrained themselves.

"Sir," Athrun turned to face Yuuna. "Do you have something to tell me, or are you just wasting my time?"

No matter how hard he tried to suppress his feelings, Athrun was obviously angry. But thinking that the young man and the rest of the red-eyed, wrathful soldiers were just being spoiled sports, Yuuna, lips pursed and pouted, flaunted his overgrown, overcurled, eyelashes.

Now _that_ made Athrun want to throw up.

"Alright, _Commander_," he teased, pressing on the last word emphatically. "Let me see… what was I about to tell you, again?"

"Don't tell me you forgot."

"Oops, looks like I did. Sorry, all that laughing made me a little soft in the head. My _sincerest_ apologies."

His men watched Athrun close his eyes, _praying_ he'd grab this numskull by the neck and squeeze the life out of him. To their disappointment, Athrun only turned his back to leave.

"Fine, that was you're king's message, correct?"

"Right."

"If you can't remember, I'll just pay him a visit tomorrow morning. _Personally_."

_Tomorrow?_ the soldiers thought. _Why can't we decapitate him now?_

"Could you tell that to your king?"

Still thinking Athrun was joking, Yuuna pouted, acting like a sorry, sniveling toddler, "Yes, _Commander._"

"Fine. I'll just come unannounced, then."

"As you wish, _Commander._" The fool smirked as he watched Athrun walk through the crowds of stupefied men. "Adorable kid. Hah, what a strange bunch of fellows we have here. Toodleloo!"

Waving his hands to bid them goodbye, Yuuna thought, _The message of my king must meet the eyes of Athrun Zala alone. But they won't show him to me. The coward… oh well. Their loss, not mine._

Minutes later, Athrun bid his men to go back to sleep.

"Commander!"

The three lieutenants formed a packed crowd in front of Athrun's tent, clamoring about how he shouldn't let anyone call him a girl and get away with it. Not even Shinn was able to say anything, and he could have sworn he was dreaming when gentle, soft-spoken Nicol shoved the three away and cried, "If you didn't want to do it, we would have gladly done it for you. All you had to do was give us the order. You didn't even have to lift a finger. Athrun, you should have just let us beaten him up!"

A cold, austere face greeted his friends.

"I hope you are not forgetting that in this assemblage, you are not to address me as casually as you do in private conversations. I am to be addressed as Commander, not by first name."

Yzak, Heine, Dearka, and Nicol felt their limbs stiffen. This cold, sharply stern face rarely spoke to them personally. Almost tearing away the flaps, Athrun shut himself in his tent.

"Dealing with that imbecile is not worth my time or my sleep. It is not worth yours, either. Go back to sleep. "

In a matter of minutes, all who had crowded around Athrun's tent had tucked themselves in, save for three lieutenants, one captain, and one sleepy, yawning ensign.

"Ensign Asuka, stand attention!"

Dearka's command sent his body bolting up, but he eased, mumbling, "Why do I have to do this?"

"About time you apologize for everything you said before," Nicol told him. "Don't you think it's more comfortable to do a group apology than to apologize alone?"

"Yes, Sir," Shinn grumbled.

"So," Dearka broke hesitantly. "Who's going to announce our presence?"

"Volunteers?"

"Ensign, how about you?"

"What? No way!"

"Don't tell me you're scared…"

"I'm not… it's just that…"

"Oh admit it, you're scared."

"Well, if you aren't then why don't you do it, _Lieutenant_?"

"Why you little…"

"Yzak, control yourself. Ensign, announce our presence. That's an order."

"Lt. Westenfluss, why me?"

"Go ahead, Shinn."

"Lt. Elsman, I object!"

"Object? You can't go against a superior's orders. Announce our presence. Now!"

Realizing he didn't have much of a choice, Shinn cleared his throat. Luckily, it wasn't necessary.

"Enter. _All of you._"

With jelly feet, the five of them entered. Dearka almost tripped on a rock sticking out of the ground.

"Well?" Athrun said. "Speak up."

"Commander!" Heine blurted immediately. "We…"

He couldn't put it in words.

"My patience has already been stretched beyond its limits tonight. _Now talk_."

"We…" Heine stuttered under Athrun's encompassing stare. "We're sorry."

"Sir, we're sorry for causing an uproar earlier. It was very unbecoming of us. We sincerely apologize," Nicol said softly.

"We will accept all forms of reprimand," Yzak finished. "As you deem just."

His stare was still freezing. The apology didn't work.

"Tell me, Dearka…"

_Hey, he's calling me by name._ Dearka sighed in relief. _I'm spared_.

"You used to call me pretty when we were younger, correct?"

_Or maybe not… _"Uhm… yes."

"Tell me. Do I really look like a girl?"

Seeing his frosted glare, Dearka dare not crack his composure anymore. "No, Sir."

"Be honest."

Seeing his _still_ frosted glare, Dearka decided it was best to just tell him the truth.

"Considering your gentle facial features, your soft-spokenness, and your seemingly lean physique, it could be contended that you would be, to a certain extent, mistaken for a girl, under favorable circumstances."

"Very well." Athrun got up from sitting cross-legged on the sand. Dearka shuddered upon feeling his friend's arm on his shoulder.

"So… if you happen to meet me in town—let's say, the park. I'm sitting on a bench, a fluffy white poodle attached to a leash in my hand. You'd mistake me for a girl for one second, right?"

"Uhm, yes…" Dearka answered uneasily.

"Five seconds?"

"Probably, Sir…"

"Ten? Would you still come up to me and invite me for a nice cup of tea under the oak tree?"

"Well… yes…"

Athrun pulled Dearka closer, his arm rounding to Dearka's neck.

Dearka pushed out, "If you smile back, hand me your poodle, gesturing me to carry it for you… and if you take out a fan to cover your mouth before giggling…"

"Alright, so let's say I did all that… you'd mistake me for a girl for 30 seconds, right?"

"If you suppress the urge to giggle, because I'd find out your voice is of a man's…"

"Would you mistake me for a girl for a minute? Thirty?"

"I guess so… if you can do something about your voice, or if you can act like a woman for that long…"

"Which I cannot imagine Athrun to be capable of doing," Yzak mumbled grimly.

"Does this voice _sound_ like a girl's? Do I _act_ like a girl?"

Dearka was saying, "Athrun, you're choking me!" but Athrun was deaf to that. The Commander wasn't shouting. He kept his voice low, frigid…

Intimidating. The other four subordinates gulped in unison. This fact they knew all too well—the Commander could get very murderous when angered to the extreme.

_Very_ murderous.

o+

Dawn. Most of Zaft's soldiers were just getting up, miffed about not having a full night's sleep. Behind one of the tents was Cagalli, forcibly muffling Haro's yapping beak. The parrot sprung out into the sky, carrying Cagalli's report on Zaft's actions.

There wasn't much to tell Kira this time. Huwebo's takeover needed virtually no resources, save for the effort of the soldiers wearing their armor. What greatly disturbed Cagalli was that everytime Haro came, it did not have a message for her from Kira or anyone else. This was so unlikely of her brother, who had been so hesitant to let her go.

"And Father, too. Why isn't anyone writing back?" she wondered. This made her uneasy—she could not tell if no news from home meant good or bad.

A few minutes later, she noticed Shinn, Nicol, and Yzak accompanying their Commander. All of them were in full armor and on horseback.

"Nicol!" Cagalli called out. "Where are you going?"

Nicol responded, "To see the Sabadoan king."

"Really? But don't you normally send a messenger to your adversaries?"

Cursing mentally, they recalled Yuuna and last night's ridiculous ordeal. In this refreshed fury, Yzak sped off.

"Lieutenant, wait."

Cursing mentally again, Yzak stopped.

Athrun continued. "Sabadoa had a message for us. They sent a messenger last night. We're going out to see what that message is."

"I thought you said Sabadoa sent you a messenger. He didn't tell you?"

Biting his lips as if to suppress them from blowing up, Athrun turned away. Nicol answered in his stead. "Well, he kind of forgot."

"Forgot? How could he forget?"

"Beats me," Shinn grumbled. "I don't even know how someone as stupid as he is can live to be his age."

"Wait, can I come?"

The four men stopped. Yzak asked, "Why would we let you?"

"I… need to see someone in Sabadoa."

"Yes, and that will be of what importance to us?"

"She just wants to tag along," Nicol whispered from behind, " what harm could possibly come out of it?"

"I'm just being honest. Cagalli, sorry, but you can't come."

"W… wait! The friend I'm seeing is a weapons' dealer! I figured you might want to see his work."

His ears flushing red, Yzak spun back. "I said you can't…"

"Really? Is he good?"

"Ah yes, Commander, the city's best. I'm picking up something I asked him to make for me. But he has items up for sale in his shop, and I tell you, they are _good_. I thought someone like you would be interested."

Cagalli's entrepreneur smile made Yzak's ears burn hotter. Nicol could hear him mutter, "Athrun… if you say yes… I swear I'll rip your tongue into pieces!"

"Why not? Let's give his work a shot. All of you, move."

"Oh well." Nicol patted Yzak's head. "Look at the bright side. Technically, he didn't say yes."

Hearing a loud smack, Athrun spun to see Yzak rubbing his temples furiously.

"Something wrong?"

"Oh, nothing's wrong, _Sir_… absolutely nothing!"

"Hm… I'll take that as a lie. Do tell me of it later. Now Cagalli, tell me about your friend's pieces, are they really good?"

Watching Athrun and Cagalli chat away as they rode for the city, Nicol chirped, "Leave it to a weapons' shop to make Athrun happy."

"I don't get it," Shinn butted in. "He's got tons of swords at home. Why does he want more?"

Yawning, Yzak answered, "He collects swords for a hobby. Spears and shields, too. Name it, he probably has it. I think his collection blew to fill something the size of the Imperial Theater last year."

"And he's still looking for more? I mean, we _are _in the middle of war here," Shinn asked. "This isn't exactly the right time to be shopping."

_This isn't the right time to be playing with women, either_, Yzak thought.

Grinning, Nicol told him, "Honestly, buddy, lighten up."

o+

As soon as Cagalli was out of earshot, Shinn asked, "Commander, why is _she_ with us?"

"As a guide. I just want to drop by that shop she's been talking about. Even you might find something you like."

"That's not the point! Besides, why was she so persistent?"

"Do you suspect her of anything, Ensign?"

"Yes, Commander. I think she's gathering information."

Cagalli was then having a busy conversation with Nicol a good distance away.

"She asks too many things and has skills to match some of Zaft's best. Doesn't that mean anything?"

Athrun kept to his brisk pace. Yzak said, "People are noticing, and people are wondering why you aren't doing anything about it. Still think we're overassuming?"

"Are you saying she's a spy? Lt. Joule, I've already told you why I disagree."

Yzak huffed, recalling how Athrun had convinced Heine and Dearka to think his way.

"The last thing a spy wants is to be noticed. If Cagalli were a spy, she would have never challenged me to a mock brawl."

"We're not saying she's a spy," Shinn butted in. "She's someone from Orb, a country we are about to attack. She doesn't know that yet, but what if she finds out? She'll tell them everything she knows."

Athrun's pace changed not one bit.

"Personal affairs must not be intermingled with national duty," Yzak said. "I hope you're not forgetting that."

"You don't need to remind me."

Momentarily, Athrun pulled back, coming to a stop before he sent his horse flying across the desert. He whispered lowly, just low enough for Cagalli not to hear.

"Even if she tells Orb everything she knows, it'll be too late by the time the message gets to them."

o+

"Ahmed, are you in here?"

"What? Oh, princes…" Surprised by the arrival of one of his more illustrious customers, Ahmed's back bolted back up from being hunched under the cashier's counter, hitting his head in the process. "Ow…"

"Be careful," Athrun told him.

"Oh, milady, you've brought friends? Goodie… I have some really nice new ones here… maybe they'd like to see." He raised his face, seeing four towering men behind the princess. "Oh my…"

"Them? Don't worry, they're acquaintances from Zaft. They're potential customers, don't stare at them so rudely."

"From Z… Zaft?"

With limp feet, Ahmed watched the four gents checking his retailed merchandise.

Nicol was checking on some of the crossbows. "Interesting handiwork… I like how you put the emblems on these pieces. Very artistic…"

"Artistic yet efficient. You're quite the blacksmith, Sir."

Displayed on the cashier's countertop was a set of daggers. Athrun started grabbing daggers one after another, trying them in his hands as he went. One hand would flip a dagger accurately and catch it smoothly with the same hand, as the other hand did the same. At one point, he took hold of ten daggers, juggling them to see how well he could balance each before laying them back one by one on Ahmed's countertop.

Still caught in the image of steel flying inches from his face, Ahmed gasped, "Amazing."

"They're all good. I'll have all of them."

"S… sir? All fifty of them?"

"Yes, and a few more things…"

By the time he was done, Athrun had picked at least twenty other items. As he scouted his trousers for payment, a black sword held by what seemed to be a wax replica of a Zaft soldier captured Shinn's attention. It felt good under Shinn's grip, and as he observed the sword's handle, he noticed it bore a striking resemblance to a very familiar one.

"Modeled after the sword of Zaft's Commander himself," Ahmed said proudly. "It's the most expensive piece. Few have seen its archetype and lived to tell the tale. Perhaps even the Commander would have been fooled, don't you think?"

Shinn shook his head. "Not really. This is a bit shorter than the real thing, and his is in silver, not in black iron."

"Really? But the history books say… and how do you know? Have you seen it?"

Shinn let a part of his black armor show from under his coat, scaring the blood away from Ahmed's face. "I'm a soldier, we see it unsheathed before every battle. Still don't believe me? Why don't you ask him then? He's right behind you."

"Interesting, the scabbards are similar enough…" Athrun was mumbling to himself, comparing the imitation with the original. Seeing Ahmed pale as a ghost, he asked, "Sir, are you alright?"

"Y… you're…" Ahmed could barely keep his feet straight. "Zaft's C…commander?"

"Well, yes, but…"

"Agh! Don't hurt me, please! You can take everything, just don't hurt me!"

Frightened off his wits, Ahmed hid himself under the cashier's counter, cowering.

"Wait, Sir…" Slightly confused, Athrun turned to Shinn. "What did you tell him?"

"I just told him who you were, that's all."

"You _what_?"

"Big deal, everyone knows who you are."

"_In Zaft. _Not a soul knows what I look like in these parts of the world. See? You scared the poor fellow. Come out mister, I won't hurt you."

"Sir, I didn't scare him," Shinn argued. "_You_ did."

This brought a curl up Athrun's forehead.

"Besides, doesn't that feel good? Everyone acknowledges you for what you can do. Shouldn't you be flattered?"

Maybe Shinn meant to annoy him, but Athrun took no notice anyway. "Sir Blacksmith, I'll just leave the payment here. Ensign, you can take the sword with you. It's paid."

"Wait," Shinn burst. "I didn't ask you to buy it for me!"

"You broke your sword the last time. Now go and find our horses so they can carry this merchandise. Find the town plaza and we'll meet you there."

"Sir… I don't need a new…"

"_Go_. That's an order."

Shinn left, still fingering the sword's scabbard. It did come from Athrun's pocket, but it still felt good under his coat.

o+

"Ahmed, do take this glass of water. You look like you've seen a ghost."

"Oh, it's worse, milady, worse!" Ahmed's eyes were practically leaking off their sockets. "T…that was…"

"I know. That man you were talking to just now was Athrun Zala."

"Milady, what are you doing with Zaft's Commander?"

This was getting Yzak's attention. Cagalli knew she had to cut to the chase immediately.

"Assisting them in their medical needs. I was offered a post in the medical team."

"Cagalli."

Yzak startled the both of them. Anxiously, she waited for him to speak.

"Don't tell him too much. Someone might overhear."

Nodding promptly, Cagalli said softly, "You heard what he said. I can't tell you everything. The next chat would have to wait…"

"But Prin…"

"Ahmed, stop addressing me so formally. We're friends, remember?"

Her identity must remain concealed.

"Understand?"

"Yes, Cagalli," he answered with a cheerful grin. He got the message.

"Great. By the way, have you got the crossbow I asked you to make for me?"

Outside the shop, Ahmed had marked a nearby olive tree with a piece of white tarp the size of his palm. Cagalli took aim from a distance of roughly ten feet, the arrow dead locked to the white patch nailed to the tree's trunk. It took a few minutes before she released the arrow, sending it whizzing through the air.

"Milady, you missed it. What happened?"

The white patch remained untouched. Cagalli's arrow had landed on the tree's protruding roots.

"I wasn't aiming at the tarp. Stationary targets are a bit boring, don't you think so?"

"Perfect aim!" Nicol exclaimed. In his hands was a halved olive. "You just sliced an olive in midair by launching an arrow from ten feet away! Amazing!"

Blushing slightly, Cagalli managed to say, "It's a good bow. We must congratulate Ahmed for that."

"But the skill the craftsman had endowed a weapon with can only be seen through the hands of a masterful user. Even Nicol here was impressed, and he is Zaft's best."

"It's just luck, honestly." Cagalli blushed even more as Athrun and Nicol began discussing how finely the olive had been sliced. "I don't get it all the time."

"_This_ is luck?" Athrun turned to her. For some reason she couldn't tell, Cagalli blushed even more.

"I beg to disagree. This is _talent._"

"Thank you," was all she could push out. Athrun paid for the crossbow, too.

_She's even better than Nicol,_ Yzak commented, watching his companions from inside the shop. _Tell me that doesn't mean anything, Athrun, and I'll pull the hair out of your head._

But seeing how Athrun seemed to be totally at ease, Yzak sighed, _Oh what's the use? It's hard to convince Athrun without solid proof. Maybe I am overassuming. Or maybe he's…_

The glimmer of a silver boomerang caught Yzak's attentions. These weapons originated from the South, and the best were made, still, by southern craftsmen.

"Now _this _is art," Yzak whispered, ready to pay any price for it.

Just before Yzak could grab his desired purchase, a woman took it, claiming that she had had it reserved a few days ago.

"But Lady Shiho, you never had it reserved."

"Oh, I must have forgotten. Anyway, I'm taking it now."

Bloated veins began to pop on Yzak's forehead. There was one basic rule in dealing with Yzak, and even Athrun kept to that rule.

"No one, and I say _no one_," he snarled, "ever takes me for granted like that."

This caught the woman's attention. She wore no veil; Yzak could clearly engrave on his mind every line on her face.

"Problems, Sir?" she asked lazily.

"Yes." Infuriated, Yzak pointed at the boomerang peeking out of the lady's knapsack. "I saw that boomerang first. Put it back where you found it. Now."

"Why should I?" the lady spat back, quaintly annoyed. "I was here days ago. _I _saw that boomerang first."

"Why didn't you buy it then?"

"Why must I explain myself to you, Sir?"

"Because I want that piece. Blacksmith, I'll pay you double for it."

"Sir I…" Ahmed stammered.

Angered herself, the lady pulled out more gold pieces.

"I'll pay you triple."

"Quadruple," Yzak followed with a fresh stack of gold.

"Quintuple."

The prized boomerang's unofficial auction priced it at millions, to say the least. Ahmed tried desperately to calm the both of them down.

"Stay out of this!"

In unison, their voices blasted the poor man's eardrums.

"Never had I met a haughtier, rowdier woman!" Yzak gnarled. It was like watching two wild beasts fight it off in a verbal standoff. "You have no business in a place like this. You should be at home… tending to your children's needs, or to your husband's, or to whoever needs a woman's attention at home!"

"Children? Do I look like I have children? _Excuse me._" Her hands set snobbishly on her waist, she smiled teasingly. "Shouldn't you be telling that to yourself? Did your hair get stuck in flour for the last half of the century?"

"Lady, are you implying…"

"Oh, please forgive my rudeness, _Grandpa_… young women my age should respect their elders, shouldn't we?"

"Call me old, will you? Fine, have it your way. Young women your age should know their place, that's something women like to forget quite often nowadays."

Her jeering smile was wiped off.

"The problem with you women is that you like to fancy yourselves equal to men in everything. You like to criticize us men about how much we belittle you, saying we always think ourselves superior…"

"Which is something you never fail to emphasize," the lady pressed, her eyes threatening.

"Because it's true!" Yzak blew. "Especially in battle. I don't see how you can even imagine yourselves in armor, how you can picture yourselves wielding a sword, or any weapon for that matter. Let women have their bounty in the arts… heck, even in politics! But the battlefield… no, _never _should a woman set foot in the battlefield. Do not torture a man by forcing him to face an enemy whom he can indubitably conclude to be weaker than him. Now be a good girl and give me that boomerang. Leave such business to men, who can wield that better."

Much to Yzak's shock, a dagger almost hit his left eye, had he not evaded quickly enough.

"Draw your sword. Before you think of me any lowlier, taste my blade. Fight!"

"I can't draw my sword against a lady!"

"Enough talk. Prove yourself. Fight me!"

"Lt. Joule, what are you doing?"

Athrun, Nicol and Cagalli looked at the two quizzically. Athrun decided it was best to apologize for his friend, who seemed to have said something the lady didn't like. Expecting something along the lines of, "No, it's alright," they were all surprised to hear the lady say, "A lieutenant acting that way? Do tell your superior, his men need discipline."

"Now lady, this is not a question of discipline," Athrun replied. "If you question my men's discipline because of one lieutenant's actions, then that licenses me to question your women's discipline for it was you who drew your sword first."

Leaving the shop, Athrun asked Yzak, "Now as for you. What on earth could you possibly tell a lady to provoke her like that?"

"The hard, cold facts of reality," Yzak muttered.

"Be precise. A lady would never raise a weapon unless provoked by an unforgivable crime."

"Commander, why do you have to point out that she was a _lady_?"

"But Cagalli, aren't women more tempered than men?"

"Maximum tolerance, Cagalli," Nicol grinned, seeing Cagalli march off. "Athrun, the line between women and men has long been crossed. You should really be less discriminatory now."

"I was just paying her a compliment… women are so hard to understand."

Then the three men set off, catching up with the veiled woman.

Meanwhile, Lady Shiho fingered her newly bought weapon. "That girl called him Commander, and one of them called him Athrun. That was Athrun Zala, correct?"

Ahmed nodded, still frightened.

"And that sexist bastard was one of his lieutenants. Hold your horses, _Yzak… _for the next time we meet…"

The lady's gaze, entranced by the boomerang's glimmering blade, seemed to stick daggers into her new target's throat.

"This little baby is going to slice off your head."

oooooo

Hey, they're human. They need to have timeouts every now and then. Again, many thanks to people who've been taking the time to read and review. (Bows and exits)


	22. The Woman in the Veil

This is a hell of a long chap, so I think I made up for lost time. More Yuuna madness here, and a little flashback on Shinn, that will continue up to the next chap. Oh, and another character's introduced here… guess who…

Stuff you need to know:

A brothel lady is a prostitute.

Something I just want you to know:

I was eating spaghetti when I was writing Shinn's flashback.

Something you need to know, but I don't want you to:

You'll hate me in chap 25. I'm not telling why…

Oh well. I had to say that because, well, you'll find out in chap 25. ok, on with it!

Disclaimer: The author of this fic does not own gundam seed/destiny, or its characters, because if I claimed I did, would delete my story—wouldn't it?—and the copyright people will sue me. Any similarities from other fics are purely coincidental, and so are any allusions to real events, places and people.

ooooo

Chap 22: The Woman in the Veil

The sun was already pounding over his head. Shinn deduced the hour to be past ten. Slouching lazily on a bench, his horse carrying the merchandise Athrun had bought earlier, he yawned.

His mind drifted as he gazed at the clouds overhead.

o+

Shinn was never sure how and why his father died. The slightest of clues only came from rumors, but for him, rumors were enough. His father was merely a shadow visiting his two children every other night to check if they were asleep. Lord Asuka of December rarely stayed at home, busy dealing with business in and out of the city and enjoying the company of Zaft's most experienced brothel ladies.

All he could remember of the night his father died was peeking through his white bed sheets, holding his sister Mayu as the both of them trembled under his bed. All the lights were still lit; it was barely past dinnertime. Soon, red pools crept to where he and his sister were hiding.

"Father's gone," he remembered telling his sister. "We need to get out of here." Finding her sister completely paralyzed in fear, Shinn carried his sister out of the house that starting that night would no longer be their home. He covered her eyes so that she would not see their father's dead body, or the corpses of two others slain by Shinn's own hand.

Immediately after that night, Lord Asuka's illegal transactions came to the surface. One of Shinn's uncles, in pity of the two orphans, sent them to Aprilius in order to escape December's persecuting eye. "Anywhere's better than here," he said to convince the two children. He promised them a generous allowance, free lodging and a good doctor's services for Mayu, who since birth had never been gifted with good health.

Half a year after she and his brother moved to Aprilius, Mayu died of an unknown illness. Their neighbors said it was fate's vengeful threads coming back to haunt the infamous Lord Asuka's family, but Shinn knew it was an outcome of the rats peeing in the garbage bin they were living in.

When Mayu died, Shinn felt that all reason to earn an honest living died with her. Left alone to battle it out with the city's cruel workings, Shinn resorted to minor theft.

A full year had passed since the bed sheets cried blood on the night his father died. A big red apple lay in his grimy fingers, being munched away along with the sounds of an apple vendor devastated over one stolen apple.

In a small novelty stall, two girls were giggling.

"And to celebrate my getting out of the hospital, I'll buy you anything you want."

"Really? Thanks Luna, you're the bestest, biggest sister ever!"

"Hey, I'm not big!"

Watching happy siblings pinched his heart. When Mayu was alive, he never could buy her the things she wanted.

Unknowingly, Shinn followed the two girls into a small alley.

"Hey kid."

The older girl's voice raised Shinn's gaze from being nailed to the floor. His face was covered in filth. The younger girl squirmed.

"Are you following us?"

Anyone would have suspected him for a mugger, had he not been so little.

"I haven't sunk that low yet. Don't make me by pissing me off."

With that, he turned to the other direction. He had already crossed the corner that followed when he heard someone scream.

"Thief! Thief! Quick, help us catch him!"

"Why would I do that," Shinn spat, recognizing the siblings. "What's in it for me, anyway?"

"Please, I'll do anything you want! Just help me get back my things, kind Sir."

Almost in tears, Luna's distraught expression meant the perfect opportunity.

"Anything?" he asked, raising a brow.

Luna did not like Shinn's tone, but nevertheless, she nodded.

"Pay me afterwards. Promise it."

She did not know what payment meant, but in a desperate note, "Oh, anything for my stuff. Fine!"

"Good. Give me a minute."

In less than a minute, Shinn was dragging the robber on his bottom. Luna could hear the man's bones cracking off their joints.

"Here's your bag." The boy tore off the robber's belt—along with the man's pants—where Luna's bag has been tied to, handing the bag to its dumbstruck owner. "I'll want my payment now."

"Oh, no, look at what you've done! I told you to take back my stuff, you didn't have to hurt him! It's alright, mister, I know first aid."

After seeing Luna let the man off the hook, Shinn faced her angrily.

"That man just robbed you. Why did you help him?"

"Because he needed it. That's what good doctors do."

"Well, what about me?"

"You? You don't look like you're hurt anywhere…"

"No! My payment."

Luna had completely forgotten about it.

"You promised to pay me if I got your bag back. So where is it?"

"Oh. Let me see…"

She took out some of her things, the better to scour her bag for loose change she could give the boy. Shinn felt his jaw drop as the girl took out pile after pile of…

"Books? Leaflets? Notebooks?"

The girl wasn't loaded after all.

"Oh well," Luna grinned as she stuffed back her medical notes back into her bag. "Looks like I already spent all my money on my getting well blowout for Meyrin, but I do need to pay you…"

She skipped cheerfully to Shinn's side, planting a small kiss on his cheek.

"Thanks, kid."

One second later and she and her sister were out of sight.

"Hey, I wanted to be paid in cash!"

Like a mad dog robbed of his favorite bone, Shinn chased the two girls in his fastest sprint, until he saw one of them fall in a faint. Cautiously, he approached the two girls, fearing it was something serious.

"My sister gets these fainting spells every now and then. It happens when something strenuous. Could you help me take her back home?"

Anxious to undo whatever wrong he might have caused, Shinn let Meyrin push Luna to lean on his back for a piggyback ride home.

"Don't worry. It's not your fault. And when we get there, Uncle will pay you for your services."

o+

"Damn, your sister's heavy."

"No, she isn't. She's just taller than you."

"No way! You said she was twelve, too."

"Relax. In general, girls get taller in a much faster than boys do in the preadolescent age. Unless you were born with poor genes, you'd be shooting up in no time," said Luna, awakened by Shinn's rowdy talking. Shinn would have smiled, relieved the girl was alright, had Luna not added, "Then again, you are kind of… short for your age…"

"I am _not_ short. I'm just a little skinnier than you. And that's not why I think you're heavy. You're fat."

"What?" Luna snapped. "I am not _fat._"

"Can't take the truth? Fat lady, fat lady!"

"I'm not fat. You're just skinny."

"What?"

"Skinny, skinny stick! Skinny, skinny, skinny, skinny!"

"You witch!"

"You skeleton! Uncle, someone's calling me fat!"

Luna was pulling on Shinn's scruffy hair when a middle-aged man opened the door, a broomstick raised in one hand ready to pound on whoever it was that was picking on his little niece. Shinn was about to tuck tail and make a run for it when he saw that Luna's uncle happened to be an old family friend, a veteran combatant of the Zaft army.

And that was how Shinn became a resident of Lt. Todaka's abode, along with his nieces, Luna and Meyrin. A few weeks later, Shinn's scrawny body had put on some weight, fed well by sumptuous family dinners. On one such occasion, Shinn brought up an important matter.

"Uncle, what do you think?"

Lt. Todaka looked at him thoughtfully. Shinn's inquiry would be surprising.

"When can I sign up for the army?"

"Why do you ask?" the lieutenant asked him back. "You have plans, I deem?"

"Yes. You know it's something I've always wanted to do, and you promised to give me a recommendation."

Todaka knew how much Mayu admired Zaft soldiers and how she fancied her brother would be one someday, beating up Zaft's enemies and being hailed a hero of their nation.

"If I sign up for military school this year, I'll be assigned as a commissioned officer by the time I'm fifteen. The earlier I make it in the ranks, the bigger chance I'll have of being promoted in my lifetime. What do you think?"

Likewise, when Shinn was younger, he told Mayu of how he dreamed fighting side by side with Zaft's best, and being awarded the highest military honors by Zaft's Commander.

"Don't tell me I'm too young. The prince was fourteen when he was first assigned ensign. Please, I promise I won't fall behind your expectations."

Todaka made Shinn's family whole. He provided the warmth that defined good fathers, the warmth Shinn's father was devoid of.

The lieutenant, his eyes old but unfailingly tactful, started, "Shinn, I do not doubt that your skill would prove great use in battle…"

Shinn's beady eyes glowed even more.

"But there is something you must know. I wish you not to bear hatred against them, but it was the king himself that sent your father to his death."

_It can't be helped,_ Todaka thought, seeing the boy stupefied.

"He also ordered the confiscation of all your material assets, land, everything. The raid in which your father died was not issued on the account of his illegal activities. Those were unearthed _after_ the raid."

"Why then?" Shinn stuttered, still in shock.

"Are you sure you want to know?"

The boy gulped. They were having spaghetti that night. Innocent tomato paste looked like blood; rubbery noodles felt like sinews caught between the nooks of his teeth.

"Your father was hiding a fugitive. If Lord Asuka spoke the truth, the fugitive paid him a large sum to stay in your house for a few days. When the king and his men came, your father was so scared, he threw the fugitive at the king's feet. The fugitive was injured then, but he got away. Your father chased after him, arrows raining down on the both of them. Your father got hit, but that wasn't what killed him."

"What… did?" the boy asked half-heartedly.

"The fugitive's escape made the king so angry, he slashed your father in half. It took all three of us to calm him down. Chin up, Shinn. Are you crying?"

Shinn shook his head weakly. _A boy his age would be just as shocked to hear of his father's demise this way,_ Todaka thought. Surprisingly, the boy wasn't crying, but he was sad.

"I can't believe the king could go berserk like that," he pushed out a smile, as if to comfort himself. "When I saw him in one of his visits to December, he patted my head and kissed Mayu's cheek. He seemed like a nice person."

Todaka feared more revelations would smash the boy's poor heart. This would prove to be a very delicate matter to explain, and Todaka could only hope for the best.

"Shinn, the king is a good man. I told you these things because I don't want the truth to hit you when you've already signed up for the military and there's no turning back. If he calls for your services, or sends you out to die, you have no choice. You are at his disposal. Peacetime or wartime. Indirectly, you will be at the disposal of the man whose hands bear your father's blood, and the son of that man would be lord over your life. Is that a path you are willing to take?"

Todaka never wished to discourage the boy. He knew even the king would be impressed with Shinn's raw skill as a fighter. He dreamed of the day that as the boy's official guardian, he would hand Shinn his armor, a symbol of his membership in the world's most feared and revered assemblage of men. As a proud guardian who happily assumed the role of his father, Todaka couldn't be prouder when he heard Shinn's answer.

"Personal affairs must not intermingle with national duty, Lieutenant, please allow me to join the army."

o+

"Can you see me now, Mayu?" Shinn whispered to himself, blinded by the sun peeking through the clouds he had been staring at for the last few hours. "I'm beating up Zaft's enemies. Cool, don't you think? Does it make you proud, Mayu? Proud of your big brother?"

The sun was blinding at this hour. Most of the people were indoors having lunch. In the town plaza void of a busy crowd, Shinn's growling stomach made a racket.

"I should have had breakfast, damn it," he scowled.

_I'd have breakfast if I were you,_ he remembered the Commander saying. _I won't be treating you to a buffet when we get to Sabadoa. _

The heat was buzzing in his ears, unmindful of how irritating it was becoming to him. _Just as apathetic as the Commander is_, Shinn thought. His eyes roved around, searching of something to keep his mind off this heat and his growling stomach.

"One, two, three, I'm looking for a flea," he started off, picking rhyming words haphazardly, and swaying his head to the beat of his phrases' rhythm. "Theeeeeere's… two little boys playing hopscotch, a gent with a big round pocket watch… a pretty blonde girl looking down on me, the leash undone from my black horsie…"

"There," he heard someone say, "Black Pony's free now! Go, Mr. Black Pony! Run like the wind!"

"Yes," Shinn mumbled. His stomach was giving him nausea. "Run like the wind, Black Pony."

_Black pony… wait. _

Looking down on him was a pretty blonde girl, holding the undone leash of his black stallion, side by side with his unbound beast that was trying to shake off the weapons strapped on it. The girl was all smiles, quite proud of what she had done. Before Shinn could react, the stallion went into a hysteric fit, trashing wildly about and springing into a frenzied gallop, carrying with it every piece of merchandise Athrun had entrusted Shinn to watch over.

Despite the weight it was made to carry, it ran so fast Shinn couldn't catch up. Having ran out of hope and breath, he returned to the town plaza, cursing himself for being absent-minded, and the girl for being so stupid.

"That's going to come out of my paycheck," he grunted, facing the girl. To his surprise, the girl let out a terrified scream. Sitting on all fours, her eyes were large of fear. _Probably from the horse's rampage,_ Shinn thought. He offered a hand to help the girl up, but the girl was so scared, she burst into tears. Through the fingers covering most of her face, Shinn could see her eyes quivering with dread, as if she had just seen a monster.

"It's gone. There's nothing to be worried of," he told her, taking one of her hands to pull her up to her feet as gently as he could. As an afterthought, he added, "and if something comes to hurt you, I'll protect you. So stop crying."

In an instant, her face stopped shaking. _It's working,_ Shinn thought. "So come on. Maybe I can help you get to your destination. Are you from around here? Apparently not… so where are you trying to get to?"

Finally, the girl was less trepid, settling down on a bench. Shinn sighed, wondering where his stallion had wandered off to. _Oh well, _he sighed again,_ hopefully, he didn't lose too many of the items. I can look for him later. For now… the girl's more important. _

"So where were you going again?"

The girl hadn't told him. Two glowing pearls hidden beneath lush golden bangs—Shinn found himself lost in the girl's tender gaze.

Her face carried a queer kind of curiosity to it, as if she had never seen a man before. Curiously she began running a dainty finger on Shinn's face. Still mesmerized by the girl's delicate innocence, it took a while for his senses to disturb his reverie, luring him into a labyrinth of fancied sensation that somehow, one tiny caressing finger brought upon him. "What are you doing?" he asked softly.

Not too many girls have touched him this way. Her finger ran from his right cheek, rolled down to his chin, up the other cheek, and rounded up to his forehead before softly crossing his nose bridge.

Soon, her dainty finger was tapping on his nose.

"What are you doing to my nose?" Shinn asked. This was getting highly peculiar. Her smile grew bigger, like a bratty child's, as she started pulling on his nose. Hard.

"What… are… you… doing… to… my nose?" Shinn squeaked between the girl's pinches. "Stop… it!"

Having enough of this, Shinn pulled off the girl's hand violently. His nose sore and red as a clown's, he looked angrily at the girl, who was now laughing uncontrollably.

"Funny person, what's your name?"

"Why should I give you my name, after what you did?" he snapped, rubbing his nose. "Look, Lady, I just wanted to help, but if you're going to play jokes on me like that, help yourself!"

Eventually, the girl stopped laughing, flashing Shinn a big innocent smile. She just stared at him. This was beginning to give Shinn goose bumps.

"Hey, I'm talking to you," Shinn looked at her sharply, thinking the girl was still playing games.

The girl just kept staring at him, still smiling.

"Well, talk!"

This gathered a puzzled look from the girl.

"Funny person's talking to 'Lady'."

"The only Lady in this vicinity is _you,_" Shinn boomed. His patience was no longer than a bar of soap.

"Huh?" the girl looked around, looking for someone. "Where's You? Who's You?"

"You!" This was getting confusing for poor Shinn.

"Who?"

"You!"

"But where _is_ You?"

"You is you, alright? You're you, don't you get it? Is this some kind of joke?"

"Why… what's the joke? And who's You?"

"What is wrong with you?"

"Don't know, can't see You, can't hear You, either… don't even know who You is. Who _is _You?"

"You is… oh, never mind," Shinn gave in, letting his head hang on his shoulders. "How do I explain this to you?"

"You seems to be very important to funny person," the girl said sadly. "Stellar's sorry Stellar couldn't help Funny Person find You."

Her statement was oddly constructed, but from that, Shinn was able to pick out one thing.

"Stellar. That's your name."

"Your… name?" she repeated slowly, grasping it somewhat.

"Yes. You're Stellar."

"You're?"

"Fine," he sighed, "You… are… Stellar."

She struggled to comprehend, "You… are… Stellar… you… Stellar… hm… you is Stellar…"

"Finally," he sighed, relieved. "That means when I said You, I meant Stellar. Understand?"

"Stellar thinks so," she said half-heartedly, then bolted back to her cheerful self. "You thinks you understands now!"

"Uhm… good." _This girl needs help, _he grumbled mentally, watching the girl giggling and whispering things to herself. _I wonder what Luna knows about mental disorders. _The girl seemed overjoyed of her achievement. Shinn sighed again, but when the girl beamed at her, ivory white teeth perfectly pristine in place, he forced out a smile, hoping to keep the girl's happy spirits up.

"Good. Funny Person isn't mad at Stellar anymore. Maybe Funny Person can tell Stellar what Funny Person's name is?"

_How could anyone let such an innocent girl come out in the open like this?_ he asked himself. _Oh well, I guess this morning isn't so crummy after all. _

He smiled back, this time, unforced.

"It's Shinn," he said, but remembering she might not understand, "Funny Person is Shinn."

o+

Thirty minutes later, knowing what words he should explain with became second to instinct. Stellar had trouble understanding things; making a child understand would have been easier. But she was eager to speak about anything Shinn could bring up—it was Shinn who brought questions up, making Shinn think she wasn't used to making conversations. _Maybe her parents don't let her out too much, _Shinn thought. Stellar told him she was from Vierna, and that she had come with Shiho, "Stellar's friend", to see one of "Shiho's friends", Silver Boomerang.

Unaware of what had happened in Ahmed's shop, Shinn nodded back eagerly.

"So what is Stellar doing alone?"

"Shiho said," she raised her brow, to Shinn's amusement, pretending she was Shiho, "Four Black Men are dangerous and might hurt Stellar. So Stellar needs to stay here."

_Four Black Men,_ he thought. _Did Shiho mean us? _

"But Stellar saw Black Pony," she continued, her voice back to its sing-song chirp, "and Black Pony seemed so tired carrying many shiny things, so Stellar freed Black Pony… and met Shinn!"

Stellar continued to tell him about Vierna and Martius, Shiho's home city. Stellar said some people called Shiho Hauptmann.

Martian soldiers called their highest commanding officer Hauptmann. _Shiho… _he recalled. _Shiho Hahnenfuss? Why would this girl be associated with Martius' princess? _

_Just who are you? _He eyed the girl warily, Stellar's gaze directed to the sky, making out animal shapes from the clouds.

"Shinn, look! There's Mr. Black Pony. Up in the sky!"

"Yes, but he's not black anymore," Shinn replied, his gaze softening.

Time passed, and Stellar finally asked a question.

"So, where does Shinn come from?"

Shinn let out a subtle laugh, thinking the answer was obvious. He was in full armor, and Zaft's armor was never mistaken for anything else.

"Shinn seems sad," Stellar looked at him beady-eyed. Shinn thought few people cared for his feelings, and the girl's caring gestures took to his heart.

"Shinn is from Zaft," his voice so soft he could barely hear himself. He lifted his coat a bit to show Stellar a part of his armor. "See? This is what Zaft armor looks like. If Shinn is wearing this, it means Shinn is from Zaft."

Her eyes seemed entranced by the sunrays coating black steel in a silver glow. Shinn took it as fear.

"Look, Shinn is from Zaft, but that doesn't mean Shinn will hurt you. Shinn promised he'd protect you, so don't be scared…"

To his astonishment, Stellar's big round eyes got bigger and rounder, the revelation thrilling her.

"Shinn is from Zaft! Come with Stellar, Shinn must meet Shiho! Shiho have always wanted to meet Shinn!"

He could not break off from the girl's grasp, fearing that if he tried too hard, he'd break Stellar's fingers.

"Wait, I need to look for my superior's things!"

She was deaf to that. After all, she didn't know who "I" was.

o+

As Stellar dragged Shinn across Sabadoa, the sound of a dripping shower meant it had finished its most arduous and tormenting task, that is, the one-hour bathing session of one of Sabadoa's most flamboyant nobles. In Sabadoa, having royal blood was not a prerequisite to qualify as a noble. The highest official, the "king", was elected, and it was up to him to decide which economic power players were given slots in the "king's court". This was how people like Yuuna ended up in public office, given that Sabadoa's sovereign was his fourth cousin's brother-in-law.

On his desk, a small piece of parchment was unfolded neatly.

_To Athrun Zala, Prince of Zaft: _

_We are well aware of the campaign you have launched against the South, and that we, the people of Sabadoa, are the next to be pursued. To avoid unnecessary bloodshed, I wish to invite you to the Sabadoan royal manor for peaceful negotiations. We wish not to make war with you, and I, as representative of my city, will concede to all your demands, provided that they are not against the people's welfare._

_Our messenger shall wait for your response, and if you wish, allow him to accompany you to our royal quarters. Good day, Prince. _

A soft knock beat on the door.

"Lord Seiran, someone wishes to have an audience with you.

"Yes? Who?"

"Athrun Zala of Zaft, Sir."

"Really?" In his excitement, Yuuna sprung out of the bathroom, opening his door wide. "Finally, he comes to a truce! Where is he?"

"Lord Seiran," the envoy stuttered, "please get dressed before you see him."

Yuuna slid the door back in place, his eyes just as sly as the way he said, "Sorry." As soon as the noble was out of sight, the envoy, who was a young man, rushed to the nearest lavatory. He didn't need an emetic to induce vomiting.

o+

"Cagalli, by the way, what are you wearing a veil for? Don't you feel hot under all those clothes?"

A fine sheet of blue linen was wound several times around her head. Draped in a long black robe that swept the ground with the slightest movement, all anyone could see of her were her eyes and her hands.

"This is how Sabadoan women dress, Nicol," she answered. "In this city, a man accompanying a woman is immediately concluded to be either her father or her husband, and in public, she must always wear a veil. Only prostitutes neglect to wear veils. That's how they can tell which women are from the brothels and which aren't."

Cagalli sighed. Her veil was hot on her face. Midmorning in Sabadoa could fry eggs on one's head. "Anyway, who were you going to see in Sabadoa, again? Must be important… for the Commander to pay him a personal visit."

Seeing Yzak's face curl up, Cagalli thought her question might have been too direct. She had insisted on joining their trip so she could find—what else—information about their next movements, thinking that whatever conversations that might transpire here would be significant in Zaft's plan of action.

"Some dopey, excessively stupid guy named Yuuna Romer… what was it again?"

"Seiran?"

"You were awake last night?" Athrun asked Cagalli, who seemed to know the man.

"Well, no… wait. _He _made you come up all the way here just to get a message from him?"

Even with the veil on, Cagalli was obviously upset.

"Not from him," Nicol corrected, "but from their king."

Nicol went on to give Cagalli a summary of the past night's events. Yuuna had visited Orb once, and Kira, ever-so-composed Kira, laughed himself to sleep.

_And to think this was actually something serious,_ Cagalli grumbled, regretting having almost blown her cover for something as mundane as anything the Sabadoan king would entrust Yuuna with.

"But Commander, it's a bit awkward…"

The four of them had been admitted into a small waiting room, complete with a fresh batch of tea. Athrun emptied his cup, before he faced Cagalli.

"You'll be attacking this city… and I just find it strange how you can just walk in here like this."

"Attacking…" Fingering his chin, Athrun turned to Yzak. "Lt. Joule, what do you think?"

Putting down his emptied cup, Yzak figured, "I'd say we'll be setting out for Vierna by nightfall.

"Are you saying there won't be a standoff here?"

Her question was anticipant, almost demanding. "Depends on what the king will say. If he does not yield, we'll have to," Athrun replied. A courtier came in, saying Lord Seiran was waiting for them in the courtroom with the rest of Sabadoa's nobility. He would have bid all of them to get up, but seeing Cagalli saddened by the prospect of another battle, he told her, "Alright, let's bet on it."

"A bet?" Cagalli wondered.

"If Sabadoa refuses to submit, as you figured it would, I'll do anything you want. But if it's the other way around, you'll do anything I tell you to."

Yzak and Nicol exchanged looks. It wasn't a very nice thing to tell a lady.

"Just one?"

Athrun nodded.

Trying to act as composed as she could, she answered, "Sounds… fun. You're on, Commander."

o+

"What have we done to deserve this?" one of the ministers lamented loudly, almost in tears.

"What on earth does Athrun Zala want with Yuuna?"

Unato Ema, Yuuna's father and one of the Sabadoan nobility's wealthiest members, was terrified when he learned that Yuuna had sped off carrying the king's message for Zaft's Commander, after intoxicating the king with half a dozen bottles of whisky, leaving just enough sensibility for the poor sovereign to hand Yuuna the letter. Luckily, Yuuna came back unscathed, and apparently, he hadn't met Zaft's Commander. At least, that's what Yuuna said. Now that three gents and a veiled lady sat before them, Unato was having second thoughts.

"So, my dear," Yuuna asked Cagalli, "where is he?"

Nicol was surprised Yuuna asked Cagalli first. Uneasily, Cagalli answered, "He's…"

"He's not with you apparently. I've met your friends before, and Athrun Zala isn't among them."

One of the nobles heard Yzak growl, "He still doesn't get it." Nicol eyed Athrun warily, hoping he'd be able to keep himself as composed as he was last night. Athrun kept his face perfectly still.

Now, it was pretty clear to the audience which one of them was Athrun Zala.

"It seems that he had chosen not to face me again. Why? Do I intimidate him that much? Oh dear, we'll never get anywhere this way."

The rest of the nobility was pale as a porcelain plate. Athrun seemed completely unperturbed.

"It's rather unbecoming of him, ditching me as he does. I thought Zaft's Commanders prized honor. And to think he sends you kids instead. Why, are all of you his personal attendants?"

They were in full armor, except for Cagalli.

"How dare he take such young people to be his slaves? Is he a pedophile?"

The word bounced off the courtroom's walls over and over again. _Pedophile, pedophile, pedophile…_

Yzak stood up, enraged. But before he could say anything, Athrun ordered him to sit down. "But he just called you a…"

"A pedophile? Lord Seiran, do not make such vile accusations so haphazardly!"

"Well what else would he do with such beautiful youths?" Yuuna defended, raising a brow at the sight of an indignant Cagalli standing before him, "Don't tell me these kids go to war." It was only then that Yuuna noticed the three youths were not so young, and that all of them were in full armor. "Fine, so he's not a pedophile, I guess… that was a joke."

Yuuna's jester smile made Cagalli even madder.

"He's not here, he'll never know. Nothing to worry about," Yuuna assured her. The lady was still angry, much to Yuuna's puzzlement.

"I said I was only joking. Why are _you_ so defensive?"

Cagalli's hard stare thawed.

"I think it's rather_ immoral _to hire a _female_ personal assistant…"

"I am no personal assistant, you nitwit."

"Well if you're not, then what are you to him? You must be close… if you're sent to a mission as _important_ as this… and if you have to come with a pack of _body_guards behind your back."

Wide-eyed, Cagalli feared Yuuna recognized her voice from beneath the veil.

"I know who you are…"

_Damn it, my cover's blown!_

"If Athrun Zala had dragged you all the way from Zaft to the battlefield and if he clobbers you with so many bodyguards…"

Snickering, Athrun kept to a fresh cup of green tea he was served with when they entered the courtroom. The idea of being mistaken as a bodyguard was quaintly amusing.

"Then you must be his personal brothel lady! How charming."

Stunned, Athrun spat out his entire cup of tea. "My what?"

"Yuuna!" his father called out in shock. "Get a hold of what you're saying!"

"Well, why else would you drag a woman to war?" Yuuna flared, gesturing his terrified audience to agree with him. "He_ is_ a man, doesn't he have the right to find pleasure after a hard day's work? And friends, though I've never been to war, I am sure dealing with it is a tough job description. Besides, being away from home so long could get lonely. What else could cheer him up but the company of a beautiful lady? Right, Milady?"

Rushing to his son's side, Unato whispered firmly, "Prostitutes and their clientele are condemned in Zaft. This is not something the Commander would want out in the open. Apologize, before he gets mad!" Then he turned to Cagalli. "Milady, please forgive my son's… rashness, he does not know what he is saying."

Beneath the veil, no one could tell what Cagalli was thinking. She bowed her head, apparently nodding. Unato sighed in relief.

Nicol whispered, "Does he really need to say all of this out loud for everyone to hear? Athrun, we should do something. This is embarrassing for Cagalli."

Her eyes were shadowed by the folds of her veil, obscured from anyone's view. _She's being very civil, _Athrun thought. But her hands were shaking, balled into fists. No one else seemed to notice, everyone else busy waiting for what _he_ would do.

"Why should I?" Yuuna spat. "I _am_ acknowledging the fact that she is servicing Zaft's prince. That instates her as one of the best, right? Father, there is nothing wrong with affirming the truth. Isn't that true, Milady? That makes you untouchable. A man that powerful… wrapped around your little pinky. All the riches of his country at your feet… all because, he has a liking for you. Whatever lays within that veil exclusive for the prince's eyes, his touch…" he stopped, letting the suspense intensify and his voice resound in the hushed courtroom, "and his bed."

The table almost broke when Cagalli grabbed Yuuna by the collar and banged his head on the nearest marble tabletop. By the time Cagalli had stopped, Yuuna's nose was barely distinguishable from the rest of his face.

"Guards, help!" Yuuna cried, choking on his own snot and blood. His teeth were already falling off. "W…why are you all just standing there?"

Even Yuuna's father wasn't able to react immediately. "G…guards, restrain her!"

Men in uniform started crowding Cagalli, who still flung her arms wildly against their grip.

"He hasn't taken back what he said. Let go of me!"

"That's right, restrain that witch." Yuuna was shaking out of trauma and the agony of a broken nose. "Restrain her. Get her away from me!"

Two bulky figures dragged Cagalli, but not even they made it ten feet away from Yuuna.

"Where are you taking her?"

The two guards stopped. All eyes diverted to the source of the voice, one they had never heard before.

Yuuna stuttered, "That sounds familiar…"

"You hold no authority here," one of the guards spoke, seeing one of the Zaft soldiers get up and advance towards them. "She had threatened the life of a Sabadoan noble. Regardless of rank, you cannot order us to release her."

"Is that so? You have plans of keeping that authority from me?"

The two guards froze.

"Fine, I'll just have to take that authority by force. Lt. Joule, Capt. Almalfi, prepare the army. We set out in an hour."

"An hour," Unato gasped. "Please, your Highness, reconsider! My son meant the lady no harm. All he said was only a consequence of his cultural upbringing… it's just not normal for us to find a woman accompanying a group of men so… casually!"

Unato's words started running around in circles, all to convince Athrun not to send Zaft's army to attack. Of all the things his father said, Yuuna made out one thing.

_Your Highness? _

"Please, Commander, spare us!"

It struck Yuuna like lightning.

_Commander?_

"I cannot do that," Athrun said coldly. "Orders from the king of Zaft are absolute. Resistance will be met only with force, unless your king surrenders sovereignty to Zaft's king. I came here to offer him that bargain, but it seems that he does not wish to see me in his court, but in the battlefield. If that's what he wants, then so be it."

He had already turned to leave, followed by his two subordinates and Cagalli, who shoved off the two dumbstruck guards holding her, when in a burst of genuine enlightenment…

"Everyone, he's Athrun Zala!"

"Finally," Athrun sighed loudly.

"Guards, capture him and his companions. We can use them as hostage! Zaft won't attack if we have their Commander in our custody!"

Not one man moved.

"What are you waiting for? You're wasting the perfect opportunity. Get him!"

Still, not one soul stirred. This was scaring the pants off Yuuna. He felt the world closing in on him, its dimensions deteriorating into a single line threatening to slice him in half…

Like a sword.

Driven to desperation, he shrieked, "W… wait! I'll… I'll give you anything! Sabadoa, even. Just don't hurt me!"

He scampered out of the room, still screaming for help. Where he stuffed his oversized head, no one knows.

"That's right," his father stuttered, hiding behind a fellow cowering noble. "That's what you came for, right? Then take it! It's all yours. Just… don't kill Yuuna or any of us. Please?"

"Are you mad?" one of the counts muttered. "What about the king?"

"He won't mind," Unato waved him off. "So what do you say, Prince? Our lives for Sabadoa. That's a good bargain, right?"

"Do I have your word?" Athrun asked.

"Yes, yes, yes, I swear by the gods, yes. So Zaft won't attack anymore?"

All their faces were pleading, their faces resembling wringed cleaning rags covered in grey soot. His back turned, Athrun nodded. Victory cries boomed in the courtroom, drowning the sound of Yuuna's horrified screams.

o+

"That was easy," Nicol broke the silence among them. They were already at the palace grounds. The sun was setting. "Two cities in four days. Amazing."

It took a while for them to notice that Cagalli had not followed suit. Athrun offered to look for her, telling his two companions to head off to the city plaza where Shinn had been waiting since morning.

"It's nice to see him acting this way around her, right, Yzak?"

To Nicol's surprise, Yzak shook his head.

o+

Athrun found Cagalli standing on an arched bridge, looking at the still waters dyed orange by the sunset. Slowly, she let down her veil, letting it remain wound over her shoulders.

"What do you want?" she bit her lips.

"You're… crying?"

"Does it matter to you? Should you bother yourself with it?"

"I guess not, but…"

Her tears were silent, streaming freely down her cheeks.

"Look, we should get to the plaza. Ensign Asuka must be hungry by now. I don't think he has any money with him."

Shinn had a knack for making Cagalli laugh, even if he never meant to. Cagalli wiped the tears off her cheeks.

"The things Yuuna said, they don't mean a thing."

He took a spot beside her, hoping to see her face more clearly.

"No one believes him. You're nothing like he said. Everyone knows that. So why cry about it?"

To Athrun's relief, Cagalli faced him and smiled. She should tell him, "Thank you," and he should answer, "Don't mention it. Let's go, it's getting dark soon," just like the way things happened in romance novels. Not that Athrun ever read such mush, but that was how they always went.

Instead, Cagalli laughed loudly. "That's very naïve of you. I heard everything his father was telling Yuuna. It's Sabadoan culture. A woman accompanying a man should be either his daughter or his wife. Otherwise, she is a prostitute in their eyes. Before you claim this city as yours, you should try to understand that."

"This is the second time," she regained her voice after swallowing air in her drying throat, "I've been called your woman."

He felt he had to say something. "Mistaken."

"Called the same nevertheless. You know how they say it in marital vows? 'I now declare you man and wife.' That's dogma for some people. So in situations like that, I'd rather keep my mouth shut than berate them with how unfair it is. It's better than being laughed at for trying to disprove something utterly irrevocable… in their eyes, anyway. And juxtaposed to the world's epitome of masculine superiority," she sighed. She seemed so tired. "What can I say?"

Entrapped in pearl-white skin and flowing hair, her eyes seemed like fragile crystals. The gleam of his silver sword would have blinded them. Yet they held him suspended for the time being. Not tightly.

"By the way, in case you wanted to know, that epitome is you."

The slightest movement of her eyes broke up the trance he had ended up in. His head felt like it had been submerged in warm water.

"Sorry. That was something I liked to give people who believed in the patriarchal format of society. Did it sound like I was rambling? Maybe it did. Let's go. Shinn must be hungry. And he's a full-blooded grouch when his stomach's growling."

In her haste, the cord strung on her neck snapped, the stone hanging from it rolling on the arched wood bridge. She tried chasing after it, but her bulky robe—the one all Sabadoan women were made to wear—got in the way. To add to this, her veil, a voluminous shroud heavy on her shoulders, still blocked view of the floor.

"Oh no, my Haumea!" she cried. It was a jewel brides-to-be gave their betrotheds before marriage. She heard it roll down along cracks between rough planks, before coming to a stop. She feared it was at the riverbed, where there was no chance of finding something so small.

"Here it is." Athrun took her hand in his, placing the red stone in her slender hands. If compared, his hands were much bigger than hers. He could so easily snap each finger into two. So he held them as gently as he could.

Gently.

She felt his hands run through the fabric wound on her neck, unwinding it from her frame.

Slowly.

"Forget the veil," Athrun said lightly. "After all, you're not Sabadoan."

With or without armor, Athrun was much taller than Cagalli. Her forehead barely touched his chin. She watched the tall man fold the long stretch of cloth and tuck this neatly in his coat's pocket.

"I should really tell the governor to ban women from wearing these…"

Her eyes reverted to the small stone in her hand. It glowed against the wooden background amongst the sunset's tresses. Haumea was still warm from being rested on her chest, and from being in Athrun's hand.

o+

"Oh, Cagalli, I almost forgot. Our bet."

"The bet?"

"You lost, just in case you forgot."

Yuuna practically handed them the key to his city. That meant Cagalli had to do anything Athrun would tell him.

Cagalli gulped. They hadn't set any stipulations on how far Athrun's demands could go. She waited warily. Thinking of what a man could ask a woman to do was nerve-wracking.

"I know. Starting tonight, you must…"

_Tonight? What could he possibly have me do in the night?_

"Starting tonight, you need to call me by name."

Cagalli blinked.

"First name. No, wait, Dearka will go mad if he finds out I'm letting a girl call me by name… make sure he isn't there when you do so. Yzak would lose his wits and I think Ensign Asuka would, too. Anyway, make sure you do so only when no one's looking."

In an instant, she snapped, "What kind of a demand is that?"

"A demand you don't have an excuse not to meet. It's night time now."

Still a little confused, Cagalli wouldn't follow. She called out, "Commander…"

Athrun wouldn't stop walking. Cagalli called out another time, "Commander," but he ignored her… again.

"I said you had to start tonight. See the moon?"

The moon looked like a giant, far-off serving plate, glimmering up in the sky. "Let's go. I'm starving."

She followed him quietly. It was strange. Just now his tone was so comfortable it didn't sound like him. It wasn't the first time he sounded friendly, but tonight was different. He was letting her call him by name.

"A… a…" said Cagalli.

It sounded as if his name was the most complicated thing in the world.

"Argh, is my name that hard to pronounce?" Athrun barked. "Two syllables. Ath-run. Get it?"

o+

The town plaza was completely deserted for the night. Shinn was out of sight.

"Strange, his stallion's right here," Cagalli noted. "Where could he have gone off to?"

Suddenly, something sharp grazed the side of Cagalli's head. A silver boomerang slashed through the air, falling smoothly into its owner's hand. Yzak drew his sword first.

"Shiho. I should have guessed."

"From Martius?" Athrun asked.

"The woman from the weapons' shop. This is a declaration of resistance. I suggest you spare Shinn the trouble of sending them a message."

"Oh, are you talking about this poor little thing? I didn't know he was your personal messenger."

Shouting from the city gates, she probably didn't care if she woke up the entire city. Lady Shiho Hahnenfuss stood proud on her stallion, in her hands a bulky sack covering something struggling from its bondage inside. Seated behind her was a blonde girl.

"Shiho," the blonde asked, "it sounds like Shinn can't breathe."

Her nails mimicking iron clasps restricting the boy's head by the roots of his scalp, Shiho pulled out Shinn's head from inside the sack. His mouth, muffed by a handkerchief, was released for a second, enough for him to say, "Leave for Vierna and Martius! Forget me!" Shiho tucked Shinn's head back in.

"There. Shiho gave Shinn enough time to breathe. That's enough for Shinn."

The blonde girl smiled at all of them, bidding them farewell before Shiho dropped the sack Shinn was in and sprung into a slow strut, dragging the sack across the sand.

"That'll kill him!" Cagalli exclaimed.

"No. She's too slow. He'll be bruised, but it won't be enough to kill him."

"Should we follow her?"

"No. If we do that, she'll gallop full speed. _That _would kill him."

"So what should we do?"

Gathering his reigns, Athrun gave them the cue. In their fastest stride, they headed back to base camp.

oooooo

please do review, I need them since the semester's already starting, and I need them to cheer me up. Please? offers you plate of spaghetti, but takes it back and gobbles right before you can get your hands on it :)


	23. Shinn's Friend

Hi everyone. I'm so sorry this chap took so long to post (it took me so long to type this, too). Life can be so paradoxically unforgiving. Anyway, I hope we all remember what happened last time? Yeah, Shinn's being dragged to wherever Shiho wants to.

Ok, reminders…

There's a flashback here somewhere about Shinn's deliver-the-message mission to Lunius from chap 12. To refresh you, Athrun tricked Shinn into believing that Lunius tortured captured spies to untold proportions.

TRIVIA!!! The concept of the 'noble lie' comes from Plato's _Republic. _Had to disclaim that.

If you forgot what Spamlocks and Hadeswallows are, they're torture devices. (see chap 12) Essentially, spamlocks twists you like toffee (literally) and hadeswallows pull you apart while submerged in boiling water. Skinners, well, basing from the rootword "skin", you guess what it does.

Disclaimer: The author of this fic does not own gundam seed/destiny, or its characters, because if I claimed I did, would delete my story—wouldn't it?—and the copyright people will sue me. Any similarities from other fics are purely coincidental, and so are any allusions to real events, places and people.

ooooo

Chap 23: Shinn's Friend

Whether or not the sun still rose above his head, Shinn hadn't the slightest clue. His ears were muffed by balled rags—makeshift earplugs—and he couldn't make out anything from the distorted sounds. He had been pulled out of the sack—quite roughly—and was now being dragged with his hands behind his back and a sack covering his head. Two hands kept him from grabbing hold of the sword still stashed in his sling, and a blade on his neck made sure he would walk with his captors peacefully without any contemplation of escape.

Finally, their trek reached a stop. His head freed from the sack it had been in for hours, Shinn realized that two fairly tall men had brought him in front of a small intricately embellished door. On the door were several—probably hundreds—of inlays: shells.

The door opened with an eerie creak. Shinn squinted at the sudden outburst of light. In what seemed to be a surreal imitation of heaven's vestibule, Shinn thought he was looking at an angel offering a sumptuous buffet.

"Shinn must be hungry," Stellar got up from being seated on the floor and pulled Shinn down to a cushion beside her, handing him a meaty drumstick from a roasted chicken. "Does it taste good?"

Shinn was so preoccupied with good food, he could only nod. Stellar's smile and the fact that he hadn't eaten anything since last night made him so hungry he forgot the food might've been poisoned. Luckily, it wasn't.

"Big brother will be leaving now. Big Brother needs to see Murrue. Murrue is coming home today," said one of the two men restraining Shinn earlier.

"Really?" Stellar squeaked, busy with dinner herself. "Tell Murrue Stellar wants Murrue to meet Shinn!"

The taller of his two captors nodded. Shinn's eyes widened. "Stellar, who's Murrue?"

"Murrue is Stellar's friend."

"No, what do people call Murrue?"

"Murrue!"

"What else?"

Stellar blinked, thinking hard of what else people used to refer to her friend. "Aha, Stellar remembers! People call Murrue Prime Minister. Like Big Brother Auel and Big Brother Sting… brought Shinn to Stellar earlier!"

Then she returned to her happy eating, not noticing Shinn's troubled thoughts.

_The Viernan princes are her brothers. Impossible… Vierna doesn't have a princess._

"Why, Shinn? Is something wrong with food? Food's good, should make Shinn happy. Why is Shinn sad?"

Shinn shook his head, an attempt to hide his anxieties. But he had to ask.

"Stellar, what do people call Stellar?"

Stellar had her mouth full. She was so eager to answer back that she tried swallowing a full slice of cake in one blow. She couldn't answer back immediately. Shinn continued, "Stupid question, of course people call Stellar …"

"Princess!"

Shinn froze. Stellar was Vierna's princess.

"Shinn would like some cake?" Stellar lifted a small slice of cake to Shinn's mouth. "Open wide!"

Half-heartedly, Shinn accepted Stellar's offer, trying his best to pretend he was still enjoying his hearty meal.

o+

The Viernan castle, a mammoth mass of rock and precious stone, had never been breached before. It walls were thick, tested by centuries of rabid weather and war. Shinn would have never been able to get a message through, nor would he have been able to infiltrate as a spy. If caught, Vierna spared no one from its infamous torture cells located deep within the cliff sides from which the castle stood.

Stellar had fallen asleep on Shinn's lap, full from the buffet they were served with. Shinn's eyes could not rest themselves. This was the perfect, invaluable opportunity. Vierna had so willingly given him a welcome fit for a king, thanks to its juvenile, dull-witted princess.

He wiggled in his position, thinking of a way to get up without waking Stellar up. After that, there would be the problem of getting into the royal courtroom, where the city's court must be holding a meeting. And then he'd have to think of a way out of the castle. Shinn sighed. The only reason he hadn't been taken into the dungeons for questioning was because, from what Stellar told him, Stellar wanted his company. Separating himself from Stellar would be suicidal—literally.

Then there came to him a brilliant idea.

"Stellar," he nudged her to wake up, "Shinn wants Stellar to show Shinn around."

"Show around… what?" she replied half-awake.

"Stellar's home."

"Home? Oh, Stellar understands."

In a burst of excitement, Stellar pulled Shinn up to face the window.

"Big Brother Sting told Stellar not to leave Stellar's room. But Stellar can still show Shinn home!"

Out the window, all Shinn could see was a big, grey wall.

"That's Stellar's home?"

Stellar nodded happily.

"But that's a wall."

"When Stellar sees big wall, Stellar is home. Big wall is home."

"No," Shinn scratched his head, frustrated. "Shinn meant the castle."

"Castle?"

"Yes. Show Shinn around the castle." _So I can find the courtroom and the way out!_

"What's Castle?"

"This!" He looked around, referring to everything around him.

"There!" she spun, "Stellar's room is Castle?"

"Never mind," Shinn sighed. So much for using Stellar as a tour guide.

"Shinn?"

Exasperated, he asked, "What?"

"Does Shinn want to go home?"

She looked at him sadly.

"No. Shinn just wants to know Stellar's home better."

"Why?"

"Because Shinn wants to stay and protect Stellar."

In delight, Stellar grabbed Shinn's arm, leaning on it as she watched her big, grey wall from the window. Shinn thought, _How long am I going to keep this lie up?_ She looked so happy. Staring at the wall himself, it didn't make sense to Shinn. _How could a wall make Stellar so happy? _

"Big wall is home! When Stellar sees Big wall, Stellar sees home."

"Weird," he mumbled absentmindedly, smiling lightly as he kept staring at the wall. Stellar looked at him in contentment. Luckily, she didn't understand.

o+

"Stellar has another question for Shinn."

"Alright, what is it?"

"Is Shinn made of metal?"

"What?"

Her small fist knocked on the cold steel covering Shinn's arm. "It rings when Stellar hits it. Metal does that. Right?"

It was too curious to not be laughed at. _Me? Metal? _he repeated.

He looked at Stellar softly, thinking, _Cute._

"No, Shinn isn't made of metal. Shinn will prove it."

Bereft of the armor he wore, Shinn was wearing black peasant clothes. "See? Shinn is made of the same things Stellar is. That black thing Shinn took off is made of metal. It's called armor."

Stellar tried to lift it. "Armor is heavy. And hollow."

"So Shinn can wear armor."

"Shinn looks much smaller when Shinn isn't wearing armor."

"Armor is supposed to make Shinn look bigger."

"It's hard, it's hollow, it makes Shinn look bigger… ah! Stellar understands now!"

When he was still in military school, Shinn and his peers once had an activity about armor. "Armor is… fill in the blank," their guest instructor asked. Shinn was the last to give an answer. He remembered saying, "Armor is something that makes you look like something you're not." Shinn was too small to see his instructor from behind one of the taller cadets, but he could hear his instructor say, "Best answer I've heard from anyone," before the instructor left. Minutes later, he learned that the instructor was the Commander.

Stellar proceeded sprightly. "Armor is a big, big shell. And Shinn is a big, big abalone!"

Mayu also had a big collection of sea shells. Shells reminded Shinn of his sister.

"Stellar likes Shinn better when Shinn isn't wearing armor," she beamed, resting her head on Shinn's shoulder. "Shinn is much warmer this way."

Slowly, her rose-hued eyes closed. He watched her glowing eyes fall prey to slumber, like two stars consumed gradually by the encompassing darkness. It was a sad thing, how the small fragile citadels of light could not stand a minute against its antithesis—the massive dark. From afar, he could hear the sound of horse gallop culminating into a thunderous halt. His head was making sounds on its own: a bad omen. Zaft's Imperial Crusade and its raging stallions were still miles away, but he could hear them pounding at his ears.

Suddenly, a blade threatened to slit his throat. Familiar with its silver gleam, Shinn stood warily. Two sharp blows to the belly, and all lights went out.

o+

Rocked back into consciousness by a harsh dragging, Shinn found himself in a dark cavernous tunnel, its ceiling dripping with tarnished water smelling of rust. Cobwebs littered the air holes, while greenish-brown moss stuck to the walls. The floor was a mixing palette of moss, mud, and brown slush of God knows what—Shinn couldn't make out anything else in the dark. But he could tell it was something thick and frothy—he was being dragged in it.

It stunk too._ Smells like…_

_Human waste?_

Out of nowhere, a tidal wave surged, cascading through one of the tunnel's many openings. The water rose to submerge his captors' boots, but for Shinn who was being dragged on his bottom, it drenched half of his body. The revolting scent of decaying matter grew to be more powerful, and he was now swimming in it. A little further and Shinn could see the source of this stench.

"What, you've never seen a dead body before?" Sting, who held Shinn by a leash laden with weights, asked. Seeing Auel crinkling his nose, "Ten years of watching interrogations here and you still haven't gotten used to this? Let's go."

The side of the tunnel facing the sea was lined with several barred openings. Reaching out from the grimy bars was a hand of a dead man, stripped naked by the rapacious waves. His face was stuck to the bars, glued by his own decaying flesh and blood, along with so many others fallen prey to Vierna's notorious torture wards. Their bodies were packed tightly, century-old bones mixed with newly-spoiled flesh still oozing with human sap. Bring in the knives, and the tunnel looked like a giant pigsty, the openings their endless waste bins. No one could tell how these men were tortured; the deformations branding their cruel fate had been smoothed away by the waves that funneled into the barred openings, keeping the tunnels moist and reeking.

o+

"So what'll be, Sirs? Skinners? Spamlocks? Hadeswallows?"

Upon reaching the end of the tunnel, Shinn and his captors were greeted by an old man. The smell of his breath could have made anyone faint.

There was no way Shinn could have hidden it. Auel saw him gulp.

"You do know how we torture our captives, don't you? Or would you like to be acquainted with our methods?"

Shinn gulped again, this time, to clear his throat. "No."

Sting turned to the old man. "No, those will kill him easily. I need something he can last in for… ten minutes? That should be enough to get something useful out of him."

"Still won't change your mind?" Auel jeered. He and his brother were offered seats as their enemy was tied to a termite-festered post anchored by metal clamps. "All you need to do is answer a few questions. Then you're free to go. That's a great bargain, considering we could just kill you right here and now."

"Do you think I'm stupid enough to believe that?" Shinn answered, who struggled as the old man tied him in place. He had left his sword in Stellar's room. Making sudden moves might be fatal.

"Actually… yes."

"We'll ask you for the last time," Sting bellowed, displeased. "Will you cooperate?"

"Squeal? In your dreams!"

"Stellar won't be too happy about this," Sting whispered. His voice rose, "As expected. At least Zaft soldiers live up to their reputation of fanatic loyalty."

Upon the prince's signal, the old man pulled a lever, sending a series of ropes and pulleys hoisting the wooden post up in the air. The blood rushing to his head, the pulleys raised him slowly.

"Still won't change your mind?"

"I said no!"

Sting snapped his fingers, and the post came crashing into a dark well. It smelled of corpses freshly dug up. Right before his head could touch whatever lay at the bottom, Shinn's fall came to a stop. Slowly, the post he was tied to was hoisted up again.

"That well opens to the city sewers," the old man grinned, "in case you wanted to know."

Now seeing his captors eye to eye, Shinn figured he shouldn't appear to be too scared. "Thanks for the information."

Auel assumed Shinn was ready for questioning. "Alright, first question! What is the essence of being a Zaft soldier?"

"Very funny," Shinn grumbled loudly. "Don't you have better questions to ask?"

"No jokes, Auel," Sting scolded him. "Now… how many men does you Commander have with him at the moment?"

o+

Shinn was furious when he found out the Commander had fooled him into thinking his delivery to Lunius was suicidal.

"Ensign, it is prerequisite for any good-natured individual to request permission before entering someone's tent. That was highly unbecoming of you."

Athrun was caught half-naked, fresh from a bath.

"Likewise, Sir, it is highly unbecoming to deliberately deceive people into thinking that they have been submitted into life-threatening situations."

Athrun was busy looking for a change of clothes.

"Do you enjoy making fun of me, Sir?"

Athrun smirked, saying, "Does torture scare you, Ensign?"

"Well, doesn't it scare you?"

The man simply shrugged his shoulders and turned away. Shinn had never seen his Commander without a shirt before.

It was as if someone outlined a map of a thick jungle, blood instead of water pulsating through its roots, the lines carved by a searing iron pen. Some scars were thin as needles, some were ridges ripped out of flesh. The marks were unevenly cut—they must have been made with something barbed. _A whip, _Shinn thought. The skin all over his back was rough and crusted, roughening as the flesh transitioned to darkening hues of red.

His throat dry, Shinn croaked, ""No one's ever made a successful attack on you from behind. How did you get so many scars on your back?"

Athrun answered flatly, as he routinely did. "Torture. Logos captured me when we were defending the Northern Frontier. I had just been assigned ensign then."

Shinn thought, _Whipped this badly at fourteen?_

"They practically scraped my back off. But I healed quickly, and was able to join the winning battle the following week. Come to think of it… torture is painful but …"

Scars so red could only have come from burns. But Shinn was sure those wounds were from a whip.

_A burning whip?_

"What's so scary about it? Don't forget to shut the flaps before you leave. You're dismissed."

o+

"I'll ask you again," Sting was getting cross. "How many men have you brought with you?"

A big smirk on his face, Shinn shot back, "How about asking me all your questions in one blow? I'll give you all my answers after."

"The nerve of this idiot," Auel muttered. "Just drop him into the pit."

"Calm down. I'll drop him after the interrogation."

Stings questions came one after another.

"We want to know how many men you have, where Zaft's initial onslaught would be coming from, how the spearmen, swordsmen, and archers are interspersed within the ranks, and when Zaft will launch the attack. That would be enough for now. Your answers?"

Sting's hand was on the lever. Shinn took one deep breath. The Viernan princes thought it meant resignation.

"For one thing, your _Highnesses, _all Zaft soldiers are trained to use any weapon at maximum efficiency, to match the skill of anyone who specializes in any of them. Numbers won't help you. No matter how much manpower you have, one Zaft soldier would always be enough to topple ten Viernan soldiers. Zaft never attacks from behind, so I suppose we'll be attacking you from the front gate. As for when? I don't know, the Commander hasn't told us yet. Be patient, we'll be coming soon."

His enemies were blood red.

"One more question."

"Really? What?"

"Do you seriously think you'll live through this?"

He'd asked Athrun the same question before. It might have just been part of the big joke he fooled Shinn with, but it was a good answer.

"My Commander thinks so."

"And your Commander will get you killed!" Sting roared, the sound of his voice drowned in the splatter of murky pulp as Shinn's body sank into the well.

o+

He managed to hold his breath right before his nose grazed the black slush. Now he was completely submerged in it, the rotting matter filling any open gap there was in his body. The murk was so thick, it felt like cold cement—it was burying him alive.

_There has to be some way out of this._

Luckily, his captors forgot to bind his feet. Within the sole of one of his boots was a dagger, sharp enough to set him free. Minutes later, the log began to rise.

"You think he's dead?" Sting asked.

"I don't know. You think anyone can hold his breath in there for five minutes?"

"Good point. But it's always good to check."

The log was completely covered in black sludge. The ensign's body was still tied to it, completely still. The smell was overwhelming.

"Yes, he's dead," Auel squeaked through a pinched nose. "Just get rid of him."

The brothers left as soon as they could; the smell was that bad. It wasn't long before they heard the old man scream.

"The kid… he came back to life…"

The old man died, stabbed by a dagger. Two pairs of angry feet trudged across the murky floor, following fresh tracks embedded in the rotting moss.

o+

"The only way he could have gone was the way we brought him in."

Sting and Auel retraced their steps. The tracks ended in front of one of the barred openings. He would have easily made it through the spaces between the bars. But where the tracks ended, there wasn't a space to squeeze through. Bodies packed it to the brim, forming a wall of decaying flesh.

"There's a little space at the top."

"But to get there, he must have climbed up this mountain of… is he that desperate?"

"Like the filthy rat he is. Let him escape. We'll get him in battle."

Behind the wall of bodies was Shinn, catching his breath after pushing through the mangled mass of nameless bodies. Pieces of their carcasses were still stuck to his face. He was covered in so much filth, he could barely recognize his own reflection. Before him was a tunnel, moonlight flickering at the end.

Limping outside the cavern, he was welcomed by the sea. It was refreshing. The moon was pleasing. And so were the stars.

o+

When he was still a cadet in military school, Lt. Todaka was once invited as a guest lecturer.

"By now," the lieutenant ended his lecture, satisfied that all of the cadets were attentive. He was a bit disappointed in Shinn, who seemed to be too awe-inspired to say anything. "It should be very clear to you. It is fundamental to your virtues—unwavering and _unquestioning_loyalty."

_Unquestioning,_ Shinn thought.

"We're soldiers. We follow orders. We don't question. We follow chain of command. You, the subordinates, do as we, the superiors, tell you, and we do as the Commander tells us. We may question to clarify, but the rule is unbreakable. _We do as we are told. _Is that clear? Any questions?"

Shinn raised his hand.

"Cadet… Asuka," the lieutenant pretended to act formally, as if he didn't know the boy personally. "A question of clarification. Cadets, note this as an example."

"Sir, with all due respect, what if the Commander's instructions end up being wrong?"

An ushering of silence.

"What if he ends up making a mistake? Don't we have the right to question then? I mean, he _is _human."

In an instant, the audience burst into raucousness.

"Doesn't he listen to lectures? The Commander cannot make mistakes. He's a…"

"A god? That was in mythology, idiot. It was the 'noble lie' our forefathers set up to install authority in Zaft's early army."

"Wait, the Commander used to lie? I don't get it. Why?"

"Well… you know… because of circumstantialities…"

Amidst this entire clamor, Shinn heard someone say from behind him, "The nerve! He said that right in front of the Commander."

Shinn felt his tongue get caught in his throat. He saw one of the colonels climb up to the pulpit, where Shinn couldn't hear what he was discussing with Zaft's prince. All sounds halted when they heard his pristinely stoic voice resonate within the walls.

"Cadet Asuka. Stand up."

His legs shaky, Shinn did as he was told. The rest of them were just as tongue-tied, inwardly blaming Shinn for having a big mouth.

"You were asking whether or not I made mistakes…"

The boy's worst fears had been confirmed. He could imagine the events unfolding, how he would be humiliatingly kicked out of the military because of one silly question.

"Good question. And you're right. I _do _make mistakes. The whole demigod thing… I should really have that theory removed from textbooks. Such a simplistic way to think of things. Soldiers are better than that."

He stood up to address the crowd better. This would be Shinn's first encounter with him, a day he had anticipated anxiously since he set foot in military school. Unfortunately, one of his bigger peers blocked his view.

"It would be more appropriate to say that soldiers do the things they do_for their country._"

Shinn repeated, _For my country._

"And that likewise, I, as a soldier, _like the rest of you…_"

_Like the rest of us?_

"Have the country's betterment as my vested interest, and therefore all the commands I execute are for my country's well-being. In effect, since you are obligated to follow my each and every order, you are promoting your country's well-being. Its safety. Its people. Everything it stands for. That's what you protect. That's why you're here."

The Commander turned away from them, exiting the room. Shinn could only see his back, and the top of his hair. _How old was he again?_ Shinn wondered. _Oh yes, seventeen. Seventeen and he's so tall._

"Remember that. Do not fight for me, or the king. That way of thinking is obsolete. I and the king fight and give our lives to something else. Give your lives to that. You're dismissed."

o+

One day, Shinn opted to stay late for more practice. Earlier that day, their class had received another information overload from their ethics professor.

"If your Commander extends a hand of friendship, render a salute, wait for him to salute back, _then_ accept his offer. Remember, you do not deserve such an honor, unless you have experienced the same peril he had in all the battles he had survived. You, as soldiers of the lowest rank—you're not even soldiers yet!—do not even deserve to see him eye to eye."

_Even if we don't salute, we'd still follow the Commander's orders,_Shinn thought, making his way to one of the training area's highest towers. _He's being friendly. What's wrong with that? Why do they make such a fuss out of little things?_

He opened the door to his favorite training room. To his surprise, someone was already using it. In his hand was a grand silver sword he swung with perfect ease and precision, so perfect it seemed to be an extension of his body. The sword seemed to have a mind of its own, resisting all forces of wind and gravity, but was totally subservient to its master, who threw it with one final twist in the air, catching the sword crisply right before the tip of the sword hit the stone flooring.

"That was a bad trial," the man mumbled. "One more time…"

And he proceeded with his routine again. It took a while before he noticed Shinn. For a few moments, he stopped.

"Are you going to use this room, too?"

Shinn stuttered, "N… no Sir!"

"No one comes up here other than for practice. If you want, you can use this place. That is, if you don't mind sharing it with me."

The boy came in tiptoe, his back hunched in fear of the sword ricocheting off the man's arm. He took out a small water bottle to have a drink, pretending he wasn't interested.

"Shouldn't you be training? You're just watching me."

"I_am_ training! Well… sort of…"

Shinn's eyes were meek as any child's was. He had just witnessed greatness he hadn't even scratched the heel of.

"You must be a senior, mister. I mean, if you're that good…"

He looked at the man timidly, hoping he wasn't being impolite.

The man lowered his weapon. Shinn could hear the wind strain under the weight. The sword must weigh a ton. "Actually, I've already graduated."

"What? How old are you?"

"Seventeen. And you?"

"Uhm…" To learn that someone that good could be so young was quite a revelation. "Twelve, Sir."

"Really? I thought you were ten."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Not much. Just to say that the hormones haven't started to kick in."

The boy's angered visage made the man laugh. "That was a joke. Anyway, you are extremely young to be doing this."

"Well, look at yourself," Shinn barked. "You're already a soldier at seventeen. What does that prove?"

The man just shrugged his shoulders, taking a seat beside Shinn. He smelled of sweat, but that didn't bother the boy.

"Hey, mister. Where did you learn that?"

"Hm?" the man mused, smiling. He was always smiling. "From military school, where else?"

"Not even our best trainers could wield a sword as well as you can. Honestly, where _did _you learn to do all that?"

The man scoured his mind for a good answer, giving Shinn a juvenile, contemplative look. _He's so easy-going for a soldier,_ Shinn thought.

"Hm… practice."

"That's it?"

"Yes. I've been doing this for a long time."

"I see."

"Do you want to start practicing now?"

"No, thanks, I might disturb you."

"No, it'll be training for me, too."

"I don't get it."

"Here. Try it."

With sweaty, shaking fingers, Shinn ran two jittery fingers on the sword's handle, well-polished and embellished with the most intricate of engravings.

"You have five fingers. You can't wield a sword with just two."

Upon the man's bidding, Shinn let his fingers wrap around the steel he had learned to revere in a matter of minutes, thanks to the tower of a man who mastered it with the finest prowess humanly possible. The sword's handle was so big there was room for both their hands. Shinn's hands were so small compared to the man's.

As soon as he thought the boy had a good grip on the sword, the man let it go. With one loud clang, the sword fell.

"I'm so sorry, Sir!" Panicked, Shinn searched the sword for any scratches. "Oh no, I hope I didn't crack it anywhere. There's no way in hell I can pay for something like this!"

The sword's weight kept it pierced on the floor. Shinn couldn't even nudge it sideways.

"It's alright. This sword has been in my family for a millennium. Even if I threw it out from this tower, it won't break."

The man slid his sword fluidly in its sheath. Shinn was amazed how lightly his hands treated it.

"There's a sword here I used to use for practice. Ah, here it is!"

He threw a shorter, narrower sword for Shinn to catch. Shinn fell to his bottom upon contact. The strength with which this man did things seemed inhuman.

"Let's spar."

"What? But I've never used a sword before!"

"Let me rephrase that. I'll teach you."

A couple of hours later, Shinn collapsed prostrate on the floor. The man was pretty tired himself.

"Hey, mister," Shinn called out, seeing the man picking up his things. Shinn fought to stand up, but to no avail.

"Stand up."

"Hey, cut me some slack here. Can't you see I'm out of energy?"

"Wimp."

"What?" Shinn spat, bolting up to his feet. To this the man grinned. Shinn thought it was meant to belittle, but it wasn't.

"Very good. Not too many people your age can last 5 minutes training with me."

"Well…" Shinn huffed as-a-matter-of-factly, "I'm not like most people my age."

"Yes. And I haven't met anyone _my_ age who lasted as long as you did. Good job."

The boy's eyes widened. "Really?"

"Yes. Will you be here tomorrow? If you find these 'training sessions' useful, come back here tomorrow. I'll teach you more."

"Why?"

"Because you can learn them as early as now. You can get started early. Isn't that great?"

"That's not it. Don't you have other things to do, more important than trying to teach a kid? Like guarding the king or something?"

Raising a brow, the man replied, "Didn't you hear what the Commander said last time?"

Shinn recalled, "In the guest lecture?"

"But of course. He and the king fight for something else. Give our lives to that, not to them."

"Oh yes…"

"We do the things we do _for our country_. This teaching I'm doing is not just for you, nor is it just for the Commander or for the king, but _for our country. _I'm making a better fighter out of someone who would make a great soldier for his country someday."

The boy gawked.

"And you have to do your part by doing as I tell you, and coming tomorrow, so I can teach you more."

His mind floating above his head, Shinn walked home. Lt. Todaka was surprised to see him carrying a sword.

"Who gave you that?" he asked. "Can I see it?"

His thoughts still suspended, Shinn obliged. The sword, to Todaka, seemed awfully familiar.

"Who gave you this?"

"A friend…"

"Which one?"

"Wait, I forgot to ask his name…"

"Never mind, was it a senior?"

"No, a graduate."

"A soldier? Anyway, I'll have this confiscated."

"What? Why?"

"This is a personal possession of the Commander. You can't keep this."

In an angry burst, Shinn grabbed the sword from his uncle's hands. The boy's room banged shut. Todaka had been warned by the older lieutenants. "Watch that nephew of yours," they told him. "Tell him not to be so friendly around the Commander. By now, the events of your lecture must be the subject of conversation among the cadets. Favoritism is malignant in any institution."

o+

Days passed. For around half a year, Shinn learned the art of the sword, among other disciplines, through his newfound friend's tutelage. Sometimes, Shinn's friend had to excuse himself for formal matters, but Shinn would only be mad at him for a few minutes, before eagerly asking him what the next lesson was. One day, the man took Shinn to see his first official mock brawl. The Commander was participating.

"Wow, mister," Shinn squeaked, tailing the man who seemed to have come with his best suit. The man had so many medals. They had entered the arena through a back door, and the man instructed him to watch at the top box where all the higher officials and—from what Shinn heard—the Commander were supposed to be seated. "How on earth could you have gotten so many medals in… what… two years?"

"Three, kid."

The man was dead serious today.

"Now run up to the top box. Tell Yzak and the rest that you're with me. And if they won't believe you," the man handed Shinn one of his medals, "give them this. Have fun, I guess."

Upon reaching the top box, one of the officers _did_ block him. "Who gave you this?" he asked gruffly.

"I…" Shinn stuttered. He had yet to ask his friend for a name.

"Did you steal this?"

"N…no sir!"

"Steal?" another of the officers stood up, examining the golden piece. "Athrun has eyes behind his head, there's no way a kid like him would get away with this. So kid, how did you get this? Did he give it to you?"

"Uhm," Shinn pushed out. The facts failed to register quickly. "A… Athrun, S…sir?"

"Shinn!" another one of them rose and jumped to Shinn's aid. It was Nicol, one of their junior instructors. "Did Athrun give that? Great. Maybe he wants you to get the best seat and he was worried these gents wouldn't believe you? Thought so. He should have just told me!"

Nicol pulled the awestruck boy to sit beside him. The top box laid claim to a commanding sight, over 30 feet from the ground. On the stark white sand was Shinn's friend, abreast with his uncle Lt. Todaka in a vicious brawl.

"Sir Almalfi…"

"Are you worried? Don't worry! Athrun always wins in mock brawls. He's never been beaten before. Right, he's undefeated! Besides, his opponent's a bit out of his league… well, he's out of his prime anyway. And Athrun… well, normally, Yzak here would lose in a matter of thirty minutes. And that's the longest anyone's lasted. Shinn, you look sick. Maybe you need some water?"

"Sir, is that his medal?"

Shinn recognized the gent who took the medal from him. It was Lt. Joule. Yzak let the medal fall back to the boy's hands.

"The first one he ever got. Be honored of the privilege. And as usual…"

As if he had predicted it beforehand, Yzak yawned, "he won." The fight had only taken less than fifteen minutes.

o+

Dearka instructed Shinn to buy them drinks. Most of the spectators were already exiting the dome, but Athrun and his friends always wanted to enjoy drinks in leisure after a hard-won fight. Athrun climbed up with Lt. Todaka, saying, "Could you get some drinks for Sir Todaka? No wine, please."

"Sorry," replied Dearka, "I already told Shinn to get us red wine."

A towel on his head, Athrun said, "I sent him up here to see the fight. Not to be your personal attendant. That's unbecoming of all of you."

"Shinn was all too happy to help. Actually," Dearka was all smiles, remembering how happy Shinn was when he found out that he had been receiving training from the Commander. "He almost jumped off the ledge when you won."

"How did you meet him, Commander?" Todaka asked eagerly. Shinn was off to a head start in building a reputation. This was good, especially since he dreamt of promotion. "Shinn said he had been receiving training from a friend. Could you be that friend, by chance?"

Athrun nodded.

"So, how do you find him?"

"He holds much promise. All he needs is the proper training."

"Yes, and I remember him saying," Dearka recalled. "'Wait 'till everyone at school hears this!' Yes, he was overjoyed."

Yzak whispered sharply, "And I can see all their faces brimming with envy."

Apparently, Athrun wasn't paying attention to all of this, his eyes off to oblivion.

Dearka went on, "He also said something along the lines of, 'I lasted two hours with him!' Athrun, what does that mean?"

Athrun still pretended not to listen. Yzak asked, "In a fight?"

He slouched, letting his towel hang on his head. His face was hidden from view.

"No one lasts two hours with Zaft's Commander _in a fight_. Especially not a kid his age." Yzak let his voice sink lower so only Athrun can hear. "The ministry was already in doubt when your father let you claim the title. If they find out a kid almost beat you…"

"Don't make hasty conclusions. I was easy on him."

Athrun pulled the towel off his head, wiping his face that for some reason was teeming with sweat. "You can't expect me to take a ten-year old boy seriously."

"Twelve," Nicol corrected.

"Whatever. I was just checking how well the school trains its cadets since I left it. And I was, simply put, satisfied."

Something hard hit Athrun on the head. He turned to see his first military honor, the one he entrusted to the boy, rolling on the floor. Todaka got up and ran after Shinn, whose rabid steps thumped with fury.

"That's going to sting tomorrow," Dearka grinned at the small bump on Athrun's head.

Athrun sighed, "Something tells me it'll sting for a long time."

o+

That grand mock brawl was an annual event. The following year, the military school offered their best student to challenge Athrun. It gathered a huge crowd, all eager to see who the school's newest big shot was.

"Unlike last time, I won't go easy on you."

The boy he had trained for a good half-year was indignant, red eyes and all. It only took Athrun less than five minutes to beat him, noting that it was his insufferable temper that cost him the fight. Yet this was how the untamable Shinn Asuka would be for another two years, dreaming of the day he would receive that coveted medal of valor, and of the day he would defeat Zaft's Commander.

o+

"Will he be alright?"

"I think so. He's just tired, that's all."

Shinn opened his eyes to find Nicol and Cagalli hovering over him.

"Capt. Almalfi? Cagalli… what are you doing here?"

"We came to rescue you," Cagalli answered.

"Rescue me? Why?"

"What do you mean why?"

"Escort would be a better term, seeing you didn't need anyone to escape," Nicol intervened. "No one would be happy to see you covered in a one-inch layer of… wherever did you get yourself into this time?"

"Shit," Shinn snorted. Nicol and Cagalli thought it was a joke.

"No, seriously, what happened?"

Shinn went on to tell them his escapade. Cagalli felt badly about laughing earlier.

"May I suggest we return to base camp now? The Commander wouldn't want you away from your post for too long."

Nicol tried convincing him to rest for awhile, but Shinn argued that the guards might find them if they stall themselves any longer.

"Well, there seems to be nothing wrong with him. Let's go," Cagalli said cheerfully. "There was nothing to worry about. Athrun was right all along."

Both soldiers were surprised.

"What? Did I say something?"

"Miss Cagalli," Nicol started in doubt, "you do know how touchy the Commander is about letting people call him by name, right?"

Her innocent look wasn't fooling anyone. "I did? Oh yes, I did! Well, that's just… my tongue slipped. Lapse in attention, sorry!"

"And he lets you call him by name?" Shinn asked flatly.

"Well, he does now," she replied curtly. "But it doesn't mean anything, I swear!"

"I see. I thought there was something between you…"

"What?" she spat. "But that's not… oh, why does everyone think of it that way?"

"Because the Commander hates girls. He doesn't like pleasing them, he doesn't like talking to them, he doesn't even like the idea of being _near_ them. The fact that he lets you stand by his side is a good reason to think he has a liking for you."

Cagalli fell silent for a while, before bursting, "That's overassuming!"

"I didn't say you liked him back," Shinn said while wringing the water off his wet shirt. "I think he's crazy about you, though. He even lets you call him by name…"

She crossed her arms indignantly. "What's so big about calling him by name?"

"Soldiers aren't allowed to call their superiors by name. That is our rule."

"Strange… Capt. Almalfi here calls him by name, and he's a soldier."

"Because they're friends."

"And you're not Athrun's friend?"

"Does it look like we're friends?"

Seeing Shinn infuriated, Cagalli retorted, "I'm sure it doesn't hurt to be a little friendly every now and then.

"Actually, it does," Nicol chimed in. "When you're someone like Athrun, choosing your company is very important. He always has to be careful, considering that the royal household has garnered a lot of enemies, and most of them come in friendship's guise. Also, friendliness is a consequence of equality. The Commander's superiority—actually, the king and his heir's—are tenets of our profession. These root back to the very foundations of our organization. We can make friends with lesser soldiers, even with the lieutenants, if they would be so kind. But not with the Commander. Zaft's current ministry is a very conservative one. What will they say if they find the Commander being loose? He'd lose face. That's why he never lets his name be casually spoken in public, and then he only gives this privilege to his closest of friends."

Shinn yawned, bored, "Can we just go home?"

Not minding him, Nicol continued. "But he still manages to maintain a decent sphere of friends, though. He chooses to be friendly to people he thinks he can trust, and maintains his rigor in front of the rest. I remember asking Reverend Malchio about it once. Being Athrun's godfather, he knew him well. 'Why does the Commander choose to be friendly to some people he barely knows, and why is he cold to people he's known for years?' The reverend told me a story.

"There was once a man who had many younger brothers. At some point, each of his brothers wanted his tutelage in swordsmanship. He was the best swordsman in the land, and his tutelage was the best there was.

"Now the man had time to teach only one brother. But if he took only one from the batch, all of the other brothers would envy the lucky boy. The man feared that the boy would be scorned for life, and that he, the eldest, would be condemned for being unfair. So he told all of them that he wouldn't be teaching any of them, saying that he was busy with more important things.

"However, one of his brothers insisted that he be taught, and unlike the rest, he had the potential to match. The boy was so promising, the man was convinced he'd match him in skill someday. Every night, the man would spare time from his busy schedule to pass on whatever he could to this brother.

"The reverend asked me, 'Was the eldest being unfair by treating one brother differently from the rest? Or was he just letting the boy have what he deserves?' What do you think?"

Her forehead furled, Cagalli ruminated, "Maybe the idea of being the mentor of one of the world's most promising fighters-to-be thrilled the eldest. If his brother becomes famous under his tutelage, he'd receive his share of honor."

"But the eldest was already famous to begin with," Nicol argued. "He would still be remembered, even without an accomplished student."

"Maybe the man was thinking the boy would be more useful to him if he put his skills to good use," Shinn snorted. "Maybe the eldest had enemies."

"That's a good guess," Nicol said.

"Stupid move. Someday the younger brother will equal him in ability, surpass him, even. When that happens, he'll stop teaching his brother."

"I don't think so," Cagalli chortled. "Is that what you'd do if you were the eldest?"

Shinn shrugged his shoulders, "Won't everyone do the same? What's so funny?"

"Shinn," Cagalli coughed out after a hearty laugh, "don't you know how fulfilling it is to teach someone, and hear that person thank you afterwards?"

"What if your student doesn't thank you? What if he stabs you in the back? Where's the gratification in that?"

"Tell me, can _you_ backstab the man who taught you everything you know, and live free from guilt?"

Shinn blurted, "Of course not! Only a good-for-nothing snitcher could do that!"

"See? The eldest would have been smart enough to tell whether or not his tutee was a double-crosser. Would he have chosen a good-for-nothing snitcher among so many other deserving hopefuls? The eldest fully trusts his student that he would make good use of the trade he had learned from his master, and by the student's good nature, he could only be thankful."

Rolling up his drippy pants, Shinn huffed, "It's not the same case for everyone."

Shinn decided to climb up the least steep hillside so he could check if the coast was clear. Cagalli beamed, "He doesn't like to admit it, but Shinn loves Athrun."

The last word was a bit awkward.

"I meant Shinn loves him as a brother. The same way you do."

"The way I do," Nicol repeated. "The way we all do… the exact same way…"

"Why, is there something else to it?"

"Not much," Nicol hesitated, but continued anyway. "Bah, I might as well tell you. When Shinn was in his first year in military school, Athrun used to give him private lessons on swordsmanship."

"Wow, I didn't know that. So that's why their moves are so similar."

"Shinn cannot deny that the foundation that defines his fighting style came from Athrun. Tutelage from the Commander is the best you can have, and normally, it is reserved only for the next Commander, and for no one else."

Shinn had been standing on the precipice for quite some time, absolutely motionless. Nicol sensed there was something wrong, but somehow he felt it wasn't something to worry too much about.

"I don't like admitting it this way, but it made me a bit jealous of him."

o+

Geared with their horses, Nicol and Cagalli rode up to where Shinn was standing. From a distance, they could make out two shadows aboard a horse.

"Shinn!" one of the shadows called out. "Stellar's been looking all over for Shinn! Stellar was worried Shinn disappeared all of a sudden." Stellar climbed down their horse, panting as she ran towards Shinn. Her feet landed softly, the two of them separated only by a few feet of sand, a smile on her pearlescent lips.

"Can Shinn come home with Stellar now?"

His voice weak, Shinn answered, "Sorry, but Shinn can't come with Stellar."

"But why?"

"Because…" How was he to explain this? The smile had faded from Stellar's lips. "Shinn needs to go back to Shinn's friends."

"But who…" the girl looked around, finding two figures behind Shinn—one was a lady and the other was an armored fellow. _Shinn's friends are people wearing the same kinds of clothes Shinn is wearing, _Shiho explained to her on their way to Vierna that afternoon. "Are those Shinn's friends?"

"Yes. Shinn has to come with Shinn's friends."

"Why?"

"Because, Shinn's friends are important to Shinn."

"But isn't Stellar important to Shinn, too?"

"Well, yes…"

Stellar's lady companion descended from her beast. She handed Stellar a black-clad package. Its fabric wrapping slid off, Shinn's black sword strained Stellar's small arms.

"Stellar… is sorry… Stellar couldn't bring… armor… too heavy… but Stellar has heavy… metal stick important to Shinn…" Her arms giving way, the sword fell with one raucous clang. "Metal stick… stuck… can't pull out…"

Stellar clasped the handle firmly, fighting to pull the sword out. Wrapping Stellar's fingers in his own, Shinn pulled the sword up effortlessly.

""Wow, Shinn's really strong."

"Shinn has been doing this for a long time."

His sword was probably just as heavy as his Commander's, but Shinn wielded it well.

"Let go, Stellar."

"Why?"

"Because Shinn needs to go."

"Then Stellar will come, too."

Surprised, he said, "Stellar can't come. Stellar needs to stay in Vierna."

"Why?"

"Because Stellar is Vierna's princess, and the princess' job is to stay and give hope to the people."

"Stellar doesn't understand. Stellar wants to come with Shinn."

Gently, he pulled Stellar's hand off the handle.

"Personal affairs…

Should not intermingle…

With national duty."

"Stellar still doesn't understand"

"You will, someday."

" 'You' is Stellar, right?"

"Yes."

"Stellar will understand someday… alright. Stellar believes Shinn."

The weight of his sword he now carried alone. He needed to get back to the others. "But before you go, Shinn needs Stellar to know…"

"Know what?" she smiled, still cheerful as ever.

"Thank you."

"Thank you? What's thank you?"

"No one's ever told Stellar what 'thank you' means?"

She shook her head.

"Alright… Stellar should say thank you when someone does good things for Stellar. Understand?"

Mumbling to herself, she processed the ideas furiously. Shinn tried to fake a smile, hoping to make Stellar believe that he was as happy as she was. Stellar seemed to believe him.

"Aha! Stellar understands now. Stellar tells Shinn, 'thank you'!"

"For what?"

"For sharing dinner with Stellar, for sleeping with Stellar, for telling Stellar what 'thank you' means!"

Gently, he wrapped Stellar in a soft embrace. He pitied her, how such an innocent girl would be caught up in the havoc he and his 'friends' would launch against them. It just seemed so unfair.

This was all he could do.

"Thank you, Stellar, for making Shinn happy, even if it was just for a day."

It was too complex of a message. All she could forge out of it was, "Shinn is happy, then Stellar is happy, too."

Both groups soon parted, with Stellar dancing her way back to the city gates, singing songs of friendship and the sea. Nicol tapped Shinn's shoulder. "Are you fine with all of this?"

"Aren't fake smiles the business of good-for-nothing snitches?"

Cagalli looked at the two men sadly. The moon was still in its fullest circle, but the stars were gone.

oooooo

I promised this chap would come before Christmas, just in time! That was a nice, loooooong chap for ya! A friend of mine, Julie (try looking for her in the reviews) did an illustration of the scar thingy. If you want to see, you can check out the link in my profile on December 27. i'll be posting the pic by then. WARNING: do not check unless your last meal had been consumed at least two hours ago!

This chap was a bit loaded, ne? but I figured it would make up for the one month I didn't update. If some stuff confused you, just ask me via the little review button. Happy holidays!


	24. The Twist

Disclaimer: The author of this fic does not own gundam seed/destiny, or its characters, because if I claimed I did, would delete my story—wouldn't it

Hi, everyone. It took me five months to convince myself to continue this story, type it up, and get the nerve to post it. I'm not sure how many people would be reading this after a 5-month hiatus should feel like I'm ditching this fic, but I'm keeping my fingers crossed. Enjoy.

Disclaimer: The author of this fic does not own gundam seed/destiny, or its characters, because if I claimed I did, would delete my story—wouldn't it?—and the copyright people will sue me. Any similarities from other fics are purely coincidental, and so are any allusions to real events, places and people.

ooooo

Chap 24: The Twist

When Sting's father, the king of Vierna, was at his deathbed, trusting his two hot-headed sons to rule the city and to take care of their younger sister was out of the question. The days when Vierna and Martius, collectively called the Mariners, fended off bandits and enemy tribes were over. Two years after the last all-out bandit attack, the following years of peace called for a civil, well-rounded ruler who had the will and skill to provide for the people's basic needs and manage local affairs. All he taught his sons was war. This was why, in his deathbed, he called for Murrue Ramius, his most able minister. With only one witness, the king gave Murrue the throne.

Of course, Murrue knew that Sting would not take this well. In fear that he might initiate an untimely rebellion, the first order she issued as sovereign was to strip herself of power—partially, at least. Hence, Vierna was ruled by a Triumvirate where Murrue, Sting and Auel were members. They promulgated policies as one body, and with Shiho, Martius' sovereign, they planned ways to better the status quo.

Unfortunately, Sting and Auel often absented from discussions. It was Sting's way of showing his resentment for the Triumvirate, which he believed deprived him of his right to the throne—he was the eldest, and had things gone his way, he was supposed to be crowned king. As for Auel, he did everything his brother told him to do. This resulted to the two of them disapproving many of Murrue's policies, but not being able to do anything about them. Murrue knew they always complained behind her back, but such whining carried little effect to anyone's morale. So she just sighed and went about her work in peace.

The late king also entrusted to Murrue his only daughter, Stellar, who suffered from an illness. The sea folk blamed it on some bad fish her mother ate, but whatever caused it, 16-year-old Stellar talked, walked and thought like a child. _No man would ever understand her_, the king thought, so to avoid any suitors, the king never let anything about her out of the city—not even the fact that she existed. Murrue endeared the young girl and promised that she would guard her with her life.

Over two months ago, Murrue left for Orb—as for why, she did not tell anyone. This pleased Sting, but his joy would be short-lived. News would soon reach the Mariners that Zaft was coming for them. That night, Zaft's base camp was less than a mile away.

The night before the battle in the Mariners' city.

"The waves are getting fiercer."

"True."

Even solid rock was no match for the night's fearsome waves—whiplashes dealt by the ocean's merciless hands.

"Shiho, what do you think?"

The lady warrior was calm as ever, her nails red as the wine in her cup.

"We'll win. Don't you believe in us? In your men?"

"The battle tomorrow, no doubt, but what about the war?"

Shiho turned away to face the vast, merciless ocean.

"Right now, Zaft only has a third of its forces," her companion continued.

"Yes, and we'll obliterate that."

"What about the other 40, 000? They'll strike back."

"Then we'll obliterate that, too."

"You make it sound so easy."

"It won't be, but we'll get it done. Count on it."

She could see the young man's hand shake as he held his wineglass.

"Sting, why do you worry so? Weren't you the one so confident before?"

A giant wave suddenly crashed into the shoreline, breaking into thousands of droplets sputtering on their faces. Sting could taste the sea pricking his tongue. As the night trudged, the sea only got fiercer.

"The sea is angry at us," Sting whispered. "She has brought us this misfortune, knowing that we have allowed our armies to weaken this badly. "

"Murrue knows nothing of war. Forgive her."

"That's why I don't see my father's sanity when he decided to give her authority over us!"

Sting's wine glass, untouched on the balcony's ledges, shook violently.

"You know why. She may know nothing of war, but she knows how to govern. She simply has more experience in civil affairs."

"That's because Father never let me handle them. It has always been 'Murrue, do this,' or 'Murrue, do that,' and up to this day, it has always been Murrue. She decides the path this city takes. The Triumvirate was a big hoax!"

"But she told me you never come at the Triumvirate's meetings," Shiho reasoned in an almost sisterly tone.

"What's the point? She'll have her way, anyway. Her decisions are always the brilliant, the irrevocably logical. A weakened army, a weakened fortress... just waiting to be torn apart by Zaft's gnashing teeth!"

"Forgive me if I'm wrong, your Highness, but shouldn't that all be your doing?"

Between his fingers, one could hear Sting's wineglass crack.

"Your father left Murrue to deal with the people. He gave you the army, and Auel... well you can't do everything by yourself."

His anger doused with Shiho's frank ways, he said, "Are you taking her side, too?"

"Not anymore."

"So you're taking Murrue's side now?"

"No. She has her flaws. What I'm saying is that there is no point in blaming each other. All we can do now is fight."

Shiho was slightly older—and taller—than Sting. The prince has asked Martius' princess for her hand in marriage numerous times, yet for some reason, she always refused.

"Leave," Sting said coldly. "I don't want to hear another lecture."

"Oh, so you hate me now? You'll never grow up."

"Father never gave me a chance to grow up... in the way he wanted me to. He gave that chance to Murrue."

"Is that why you hate her so? Tell me, do you hate her for the fact that she gained your father's favour..."

She took her leave, laughing, practically belching. "Or do you hate her for the fact that she is a woman, who consequently, gained your father's favour? Live not in the old ways of thought, young man. Women could do so many more things now."

Blood red was his face, just as fierce as the waves. "Women don't laugh like that."

+o+

Her boots were smitten by the long journey on foot. The lady's companion, for some reason, was still all smiles, dancing with the wind—literally.

"Stellar, we're home. Please get a hold of yourself."

"Get a hold of what?" the princess kept spinning in place before bumping into the city walls. "Oh, big wall! Home!"

Dashing into the gates, Stellar—as she always does whenever she made her grand entrance—stupefied all the soldiers. Everybody else was asleep.

"Everyone, wake up! Stellar's here! See? Stellar's dancing. Come and watch!"

She kept dancing, as if she had an audience to please. Natarle loved the young princess and found her disability unfortunate, but it was Murrue and Shiho who dealt with Stellar often. The only times Natarle was forced to take care of the princess was in times like this—when Murrue was away, and Shiho was busy preparing for war. Aching feet and her voice hoarse from calming Stellar down, Natarle cursed herself for agreeing to accompany Stellar in giving back "Shinn's heavy metal stick."

"Natarle, come, let's dance!"

But her aching feet lost to Stellar's smile. Stellar sang, "Let's dance, let's dance, toniiiiiggght!"

"Wait, Stellar, you'll crash into..."

"Let's dance, let's dance, let's dance!"

"You'll crash into that stallion's path! Please listen!"

"What?"

Right before two giant hooves could crush the small girl, the stallion's rider was able to pull back. Speedily, he asked, "My goodness, miss, are you alright?"

Having collapsed on the ground, Stellar opened her eyes.

"Shinn? Shinn's back..."

"Shinn?" the rider repeated. "I'm not Shinn..."

"Shinn came back to Stellar... after all..."

Carrying the unconscious girl in his arms, the rider turned to Natarle. "My apologies, my Lady, I was just too careless. Allow me to bring your friend to her home and perhaps by that I could be forgiven for any inconveniences I have dealt her... and you. Would you be our guide?"

"Yes," Natarle stuttered, seeing how well-bred the young rider was. His two companions popped into view. One of them jumped off her horse and took Stellar into her arms.

"Stellar, what happened?" she asked frantically, shaking the girl's small frame.

"Murrue? Stellar's sleepy... Stellar will sleep now. Tell Natarle, Stellar thanks Natarle for helping Stellar give back... heavy metal stick... to Shinn..."

"Who's Shinn?" Murrue asked bluntly. "And what's a heavy metal stick?"

"Stellar's friend. I'll explain later," Natarle hugged Murrue and asked, "But cousin, do tell me who these two men are."

"Cousin? My lady's cousin? Ah, a pleasure to meet you at last!"

The older of the two men took Natarle's hand and kissed it. Seeing that his friend's actions only confused the two women, the other rider, the one who almost crashed into Stellar, took off his hood.

"Mwu, perhaps introductions could wait. For now, it suffices to say that I am Kira Yamato Attha of Orb, and that we come in good faith."

The party of five set out for the palace.

"Cousin, is this what I think it is?"

The moon rose above their heads, high and proud just like the sun did in the day. It was Murrue's celestial guide, her patron goddess.

"You're right. Orb sends us aid."

+o+

"Orb? Are you serious?"

From a lookout post stationed on top of a hill, all four lieutenants could see a patches of blue and white armor dotting the yellow sand somewhere to the East.

"We're still a bit far from Orb," Athrun said. "This means..."

"Orb is sending the Mariners a little help. How amusing," Le Creuset finished.

"Correct."

"My apologies, Commander, I really should know where to place my mouth."

"How many?" Dearka asked.

Without taking much time or drama, Athrun made a quick estimate. "Thirty."

"Twenty from the Mariners and thirty from Orb. Fifty thousand men at our midst and you're still calm. We face an army double our size and you're still calm," Le Creuset fingered his chin. "The king is sending us aid, I presume."

"No."

"No? They're leaving us out here in the open?"

"Yes."

"Ah, I see... We shall wait then... for further developments. How exciting."

"While we wait," Dearka remarked, slightly confused, "it would be the enemy's best choice to attack while the numbers are to their advantage."

"Have faith in the king's decision. He knows what is best for us," said Heine.

"He's right. The king has a lot of aces up his sleeve. A lot more than he chooses to tell us. Isn't that right, Commander?" There was the usual suspicious glint in Le Creuset's mask. Luckily, Athrun was getting used to it. If anything good came out of it, it kept him on his toes everytime.

"No need for such puzzles, Lt. I think it's about time all of you found out. The king has a spy."

"That's natural," Dearka said. "The king has a lot of spies."

"In Orb."

All of them were surprised, except for Le creuset.

_As expected_, Athrun thought.

"Who?" Yzak asked.

"One of the lieutenants."

They all recalled that one of army's lieutenants has been relieved of his duties and has been out of action for at least two years. Yzak continued, "So the spy is with them now?"

Athrun nodded. "He might even be with their Commander as we speak."

"So we're waiting for what the spy will say?"

Reflected in Athrun's eyes was the full moon—Vierna's patron goddess. Also reflected was a black speck growing larger and larger, eventually covering the moon, eating up the golden plate from the inside out, like an eclipse rooting from the inside. It was a messenger bird.

"A message? From the spy..."

Athrun wasn't listening. After reading the spy's message, his lips formed a smirk.

"Such a cunning smile," Le Creuset whispered into his ear, just as cunning. "You grow to be more like your father with each passing day."

The smirk vanished.

"Sounds like good news," Le Creused said loudly for rest of them to hear. Sliding down the hill, Athrun gave out the order.

"Lieutenants, prepare your men. We attack at dawn!"

+o+

Speeding across the desert, Kira and Mwu headed to Orb's base camp, Mwu clenching his fists as he held tightly on his reigns.

_We'd rather die than ally ourselves to parasites like you! If one Haumean sets foot on our battlefield, each man of your army shall come home a corpse!_

"Why?" Mwu snarled. "Why did he refuse?"

Kira just rode on quietly.

"Parasites," Mwu recalled what Sting had called them. "And he goes as far as insulting us!"

"He called us that because he knows full well I don't know a thing about war, and that this would be the first time I'd lead Orb in actual battle. His experience in war would have been to my advantage, too."

"Prince, why are your rationalizing his actions?"

"I'm not," Kira muttered. Self-control was one of his best assets, and it was put to extremely good use now. "I only speak the truth. Zaft's total strength outnumbers both our armies, but combined, our 50, 000 could annihilate the 20, 000 they have now. No doubt they'd send reinforcements, but at least we would have been able to decrease their strength by a third. This would have been the perfect opportunity for both our states."

"And because of that stubborn ass's pride, we just lost that," Mwu gritted his teeth.

"They're thinking they'd win in a one-is-to-one ratio," Kira continued. "What they're forgetting is that Zaft has 40, 000 waiting at home, and that a one-is-to-one ratio is just as bad as being outnumbered. Are they seriously thinking they'd win against him this way?"

"Athrun Zala?"

"No. There's a better tactician among them, one whose experience dates back to the days of his father. You should know him."

"The man who had tipped me about Zaft's attack," Mwu said cautiously.

"Raww Le Crueset."

Looking at the full moon through the gray, webbed clouds reminded Mwu of looking at his uncle's obscured eyes, glowing under his mask like a cat's.

"No one in Orb knows why Le Creuset told Mwu two years ago about Zaft's forthcoming assault against the world. It didn't make sense. He's supposed to be in Zaft's side," Kira argued.

"He's a thrillseeker. Maybe he just wants things to be a bit more interesting."

"How shallow. He must have another reason. My bet is that Le Creuset is plotting against Zaft's throne."

"That's not possible," Mwu shot back. "Raww is a friend on Zaft's king!"

"_Was\_a friend. Raww also has very strong connections with the king's enemies. I think he's working for some of them. Maybe they promised him great things Zaft's king could not—or did not want to—give him. Whatever his reason is for telling us about Zaft's plans, it isn't to help us."

They rode on faster, sweeping shovelfuls of dust with each gallop.

"All the reason we have to keep ourselves prepared and not to trust anyone."

+o+

Their horses skidded to a stop upon reaching their destination. A short stump of a man came running to them, shouting, "Prince Kira, You must see this!"

The man's short legs sank upon reaching the prince's feet. "Now Kuzzey," Mwu patted the man's back, hurting him more than relieving him. "You're asthmatic, don't forget that."

"Has Miri returned?" Kira asked anxiously.

"Yes. She came back with..."

"Cagalli?"

"Well no..."

Kira's hopeful heart sank. Kuzzey chirped, "But she came back with this!"

In Kuzzey's hands was a crumpled piece of paper.

"Yet... dot... as... Orb... you... pursue... this is all gibberish!" Mwu exclaimed, throwing the sheet away.

"Ah! Don't do that!" Kuzzey yelled, uncrumpling the sheet tenderly. "This is very important information. A message from Athrun Zala himself."

Bolted by a different kind of anxiety, one mingling in doubt, Kira asked, "Where did Miri get it?"

"Miri has her ways, let's just trust her," the stumpy man smirked. "What's important is that it's authentic, and that we had figured out what it means. It's a message for Zaft's king!"

Kuzzey handed Kira another sheet—the message's translation. Things have taken an unbelievable twist. The message read:

_Yet as you have ordered, we shall return to Zaft after the seven cities of the South are claimed. We are not to pursue Orb._

+o+

"_See all that water? That's the sea."_

"_Wow! Big sea!"_

"_Yes. The sea is big. And these are shells."_

"_So pretty... Shells are pretty and look different!"_

"_Shells come in all sorts of colors, and there are so many kinds of shells. These small ones contained snails. These ones are a little bigger—maybe they had mussels in them. And this big one, contained an abalone."_

"_Contain?"_

"_Contain means to give shelter."_

"_Shelter?"_

"_Yes. Shells are hollow. Shells make small things look bigger. Shells protect small things."_

"_Why?"_

"_Because small things are shells' friends."_

"_Ah, Stellar understands. Strange, why are shells empty? Why are shells' friends missing?"_

_Two girls were sitting by the seashore. Stellar's companion stuttered, thinking of an answer Stellar would understand._

"_That's because... wait, let Murrue think for a while."_

"_Because small things also have other friends. Friends other than shells."_

_The newcomer had come on horseback, a bit strange for a girl. Murrue gasped upon recognizing her._

"_Stellar doesn't understand. Why can't shells just come with small things to where small things must go?"_

_Stellar's words were difficult to understand. The lady on horseback couldn't think of an answer._

"_Because shells need to stay here and make Stellar happy."_

_Murrue took Stellar's small hands—the girl was only ten years old—and placed a pink shell on it. _

"_The prettiest shell for the prettiest princess."_

"_Who's the prettiest princess?" Stellar asked. _

_Folding her small fingers to hold the shell, Murrue smiled, "Stellar."_

_Stellar held the tiny shell close to her heart, spinning along the shore. _

"_From now on, Stellar will be shell's friend, so shells won't be so sad anymore. From now on, Stellar will be Murrue's friend, and Lady-Long-Hair's friend, too!"_

"_Lady-Long-Hair?" 'Lady-Long-Hair' raised a brow. She was not very patient. Murrue grinned, "She means you."_

"_Does that make shells happy? Is Murrue happy? Is Lady-Long-Hair happy? _

"_It's Shiho," 'Lady-Long-Hair' said. "She won't understand you," Murrue whispered. _

"_How do I tell her, then?"_

_Stellar danced with the wind, accompanied by the symphony of water playing at her feet. She had not yet understood what it meant to thank someone, but this, in her own queer way, was a token of thanks. _

_Soon, 'Lady-Long-Hair' figured it out. _

"_Lady-Long-Hair's name is Shiho."_

_Taking one hand each, Shiho and Murrue joined Stellar in the dance, making sure she wouldn't be carried away by the waves. _

+o+

"Stellar said she learned something new today."

"Go ahead, Murrue. I'm listening." Shiho blew on her pipe, making rings out of smoke.

"A new kind of shell."

"You didn't take her out to see the sea today, did you?"

"It's called armor."

"Oh. That," Shiho glanced to a pile of metal, Shinn's armor that had been left behind. They had taken Stellar back to her room, where she was now sleeping peacefully. "Great. What else did she tell you?"

"Armor is a really big, big shell. And Shinn is a big, big abalone."

Shiho put her pipe down so she could have a better look at the boy's armor. _He runs around in this?_ she thought as she lifted the breastplate. _That boy can't be past his teens. This thing's as heavy as he is._

_And if all of them have won all their battles with this kind of armor..._

"Stellar seemed so happy when she was talking about Shinn," Murrue smiled weakly. "Shinn seemed to have taught Stellar many things."

"Shinn is from Zaft."

"I know. And I know you'll kill him the moment you get the chance. It's just that..."

"I feel the same way. He's one of the few people Stellar's ever made friends with. And war will take him away from her. Honestly, when I saw him, I thought I was looking at a lovesick brat."

"Lovesick?"

"You didn't see it, but the way he was looking at Stellar... oh, if I see those eyes again, I'd pull them out of him!"

Shiho's sisterly protectiveness had always been quaintly amusing. "Please, Shiho, Stellar's beautiful," Murrue calmed her. "If we could only let her meet all the world's princes, I'm sure they'd all fall in love with her."

"Maybe we could send her to Zaft's prince. Perhaps she could convince him not to attack."

Sting was already in full armor. "Shiho, you should get back to Martius. Prepare your men. As for you Murrue, stay here and keep the windows shut tightly. She'll lose her wits if she sees her little boyfriend get torn into pieces."

"And what right do you have to order us around now?"

Blankly looking at the night sky as she blew on her pipe, Shiho spoke frankly. "Sting, you just blew the best chance we had of fending Zaft off."

"And look who's talking," Sting jeered. "I thought you said we'd win."

"And I thought you were the one who was worried about Zaft's 40, 000 reinforcements at home. Face it Sting, I saw the spark in your eyes when you saw Prince Kira."

Sting held back his tongue, his glare dangerous.

"Had you let him join us, it could've been a sure win. But no... you just had to send him away with insults and rage to take back to Orb. Don't expect him to turn around and help you now. They're probably packing up as we speak. And it's all... thanks... to..."

Her words were cut by a sharp sting on her cheek.

"Shut up, woman!" Sting berated her furiously. "Are you saying I beg them to come back? That we are lost without them? Shiho, our cities have survived thousands of onslaughts through our own blood, through our own hands! Centuries of bloodshed and these walls still stand, what makes you think Zaft can bring them down?"

"Please, the both of you, stop!"

Murrue placed herself between Shiho and Sting, who were about to lash their swords at each other. Stellar was beginning to stir in her sleep.

"I'll try talking to Prince Kira., Shiho. I'll make up something to explain Sting's actions. And your Highness, do not let anger get the better of you."

"Oh yes, I almost forgot. Vierna's army isn't as good as it used to be. I wonder why..." A twisted smile was etched on his face. "Oh yes, I remember now. Lady Murrue did cuts on the army's funding last year to build schools for little orphans. Recruitments had also been put on hold indefinitely. All because of one woman who babbles her way through the king's court, but neglects to pay attention to the very foundation of this city!"

"All this time, your Highness," Murrue fought back, "I have only sought this city's best interest."

"Yes. That's what you say. And apparently what you thought was best for the city was wrong."

"Well, at least I came up with something. And you?"

Shiho turned away, back to her smoking.

Her composure absolutely blown out of her, Murrue barked, "In case you've noticed, your Highness, I'm the one who makes the big decisions. All you and your brother do is nod, nod, and nod some more, talk behind my back and proclaim how stupid my decisions are. This is all you've been doing since your father died. Talk and talk and talk-talk-talk!"

"Watch your words," Sting muttered, "do not forget that the army is at my bidding. If you still love your sorry little limbs..."

"The army? Oh that. Sorry, I forgot that it existed. The army... which has been in action for how many times since your father died?"

One could hear Sting grit his teeth to bits.

"Sting, the army's last great escapade was in your father's time. How many times have you actually led it _yourself_?"

Murrue raised her index finger, making the shape of a ring in the air. "Zero. Wake up, Sting! In this predicament, you're just as pathetic as I am. And you're probably just as scared. Yes, Sting, I admit it. I'm scared. Dead scared. Zaft kills all who does not submit! Have you heard how the Heliopolian king died?"

Her eyes, wide and intimidating, shook as the fear in them seemed to penetrate Sting's every bone, sending each sinew shaking.

"You don't know? Let me tell you then." She let her fingers drag down from her shoulder, crossing her chest, down to one side of her waist. "Slashed in half. All sovereigns that refuse to submit shall meet the same fate. I, from the looks of things, shall be one of them. And, oh yes, it scares me to the bone. It scares me to think that my fellowmen shall meet the same fate in the hands of Zaft's men. And I wonder... who's to blame?"

_Say something, _Sting told himself. _Anything! Defend yourself!_

"Maybe it's you. Or me. Or the both of us. But at least I gave up my ego and tried to do something to undo my mistakes. I asked Orb for help. Yes, Sting, you're right. It was me who convinced Prince Kira to send us aid. You've figured that out earlier, right? That's why you sent them away. Am I right, or am I right?"

Murrue found herself catching her breath—she had not allowed her emotions to come out for a very long time. She thought, _Serves him right_, as she watched Sting tremble. But her kind, sisterly nature got the better of her.

"You hate me. Fine. You hate me because you think I split up your father's love and took half of it for myself. Maybe I did. But please, just because you want to get even with me doesn't mean you can do so at the expense of your city's freedom. Think, what about your people? Eveything you love? Your sister..."

"Don't get her caught up in any of this," Sting broke.

"Too late. Whether we win or lose," Murrue glanced at Stellar, who had settled in her sleep under the watchful moon, "she will pay a price."

+o+

Big Brother Sting, where's Shinn?"

Stellar had just awakened after the medication in her food knocked her out. Sting was still enraged by Shinn's escape, but he tried not to show Stellar.

"Shinn? Oh, that lad," _I'll get that runt_, he cursed, remembering how he escaped. But for now..."Shinn went off to... visit his friends."

"Friends? Shinn's friends?"

"Yes."

"But Shinn said Shinn protects Stellar. That means Stellar is Shinn's friend."

"But Shinn has friends other than Stellar. Shinn needs to protect other friends, too. Go back to sleep, Stellar."

"When I wake up, will Shinn be back?"

"Hm... probably not. But..." _Fine, for Stellar's sake, I'll send Natarle to look for him_. "Natarle will help you find Shinn."

"Stellar needs to give Shinn back... heavy metal stick."

"Heavy metal?"

"Stick. That," Stellar pointed to Shinn's black sword, put carelessly on the floor. Sting picked it up, straining under the weight.

"He swings this around?" he grunted softly. "It's heavy."

"Yes. That's why it's a heavy metal stick."

"No, Stellar, this is a sword."

"Sword?"

"Yes. Swords can cut though anything. Here. Watch this apple."

Somewhat struggling to lift the sword up, Sting swung it through an apple, cutting it in half.

"See? Swords are dangerous."

"But why does Shinn have a sword?"

"Because Shinn is dangerous."

"Dangerous?" Stellar blinked. "Shinn said Shinn wouldn't hurt Stellar."

"Shinn was lying. Not telling the truth."

"Shinn? No..."

"Yes. Shinn was lying. Shinn must not be trusted."

"No... Shinn is... Stellar's friend."

"Stellar, I'm your Big Brother Sting! Believe me!"

"Me? Who's me?"

Sting had forgotten that Stellar didn't know what 'me' meant. Before he could explain, Stellar had lofted into sleep, mumbling, "When Natarle comes, Stellar will look for brown pony, and look for Shinn. Then Stellar will give Shinn back... heavy metal stick..."

+o+

Angrily looking at the black pile of steel in Stellar's room, Sting muttered, "When I see that brat, I'll kill him."

"Who? Shinn?"

Sting met Murrue's tactful gaze. "How did you know him?"

"Stellar told me all about him. He's a good man."

"He's the enemy!"

"Yes, but he knows the difference between personal affairs and national duty. Had that not been the case, do you think Stellar would be here? He would've taken her with him! But he didn't. What does that prove about him?"

His shortcomings were haunting him one after another. This, the last, would be the most painful.

"Even a peasant-soldier like him would've made a better Commander than you. I am a woman, your Highness, but at least I know the difference, too. As for you... do you hate me more than you love your city? Your people? Would you spoil my plans in any way you can find, even at the cost of your people's lives?"

"Personal affairs," Shiho butted in, placing her pipe back in its box, "must not intermingle with national duty. Once a leader forgets that, people die. In this case, your mistake will cost us everything our forefathers built for centuries."

Mumbling things the two women didn't bother asking him, Sting, on his way out, bumped into a tall man.

"He hates you not for the fact that you are better than he is," Shiho broke, "but for the fact that you are a woman, and that you're better than he is."

"Please, do not treat him so simplistically. Everyone's under pressure right now."

Shiho smirked, "Dear Murrue, do be a bit more evil sometimes. Sting is just an overgrown spoiled brat!"

Murrue said she would run up to Orb and try to convince Kira to forgive Sting for his impudence.

"I'm afraid that is a choice we no longer have." Natarle stepped in. "Orb is preparing to ride back home as we speak."

"What? Why? Prince Kira was so eager to come."

"Not anymore. They had intercepted a message from Athrun Zala, bound for the capital. It says Zaft will no longer pursue Orb."

Murrue froze in her tracks. Shiho dropped the pipe box she was holding.

The tall man behind Natarle spoke, "Believe me, Prince Kira wanted to help. But if Orb stays longer near the battlefield, Zaft will suspect it of plotting against them. We fear that whatever luck we had had in Zaft's change of plans would be wasted if we caught their attention. The prince has priorities; in this case, it is Orb. I hope you understand."

"I see, so Orb won't be coming after all," Shiho sighed. "Is that all your prince wanted to tell us."

"Yes."

"Very well. Leave , and tell him we said 'thank you' anyway."

"But my ladies, I wish to join your men in battle."

The tall man wielded his sword with the utmost ease.

"Impressive," Shiho clapped. "If you wish to join us, you are very welcome. Your prince has allowed you, of course?"

"He said it was the least he could offer after this unprecedented twist. I am at your command, my Lady."

"Ah, a true master of flattery," Shiho grinned as she saw Murrue staring blankly at the man beaming at her. "You must be Mwu."

"At your service."

"Shiho Hahnenfuss of Martius. A pleasure to finally meet the man who has captivated my most timid friend's heart."

Mwu blushed and blurted, "Now, it hasn't gotten as far as that!"

Shiho laughed, "Seeing the both of you blushing that way, it's hard for me to believe you!"

Before she left the room, Shiho whispered to Mwu, "I put something in Murrue's food. She'll fall asleep in a few minutes. I already told Natarle to assemble the Mariners' ministry. Escort all of them to Orb. This is the last favor the Mariners' city asks of your prince. I leave my city's fate to him, if we fail."

It was amazing how Shiho maintained her calmness in such trying times. Whether it was death or slavery that awaited her, she seemed unmoved, focused at the task of defending her city at daybreak. Unlike many of her countrymen, her face was clear as the moon, as if she knew what was to happen in the future.

She raised her voice to bid them goodbye. "Zaft has no reason not to pursue Orb. We still face a common enemy. I must see to my men now. May the sea, our mother, bless us."

+o+

'"Beyond that fortress is home."

The millennia-old fortress of the Mariners, in all of its years of valorous bloodshed, had never been breached. Dried blood stuck on the walls where the moss and ferns clung to.

"All that is left to do is breach that wall and claim what it contains as Zaft's. Then we head home."

The night had been sleepless for Cagalli. While staying as a doctor for Zaft's army, she had gained many friends who often made her forget her true purpose for staying with them. It felt like betrayal, her sending messages to Orb about the army's actions, and sometimes she found herself torn between these two sides. Now, all she wanted to do was go home. But that morning, word got out about Orb's retreat. _Bittersweet_, she thought. The two sides she both loved would not fight today, but nothing could be said about how they would destroy each other in the future.

She loved her father, her brother, and all her friends in Orb, and to lose even one of them would feel like a stab in the heart. It pained her, too, that the one man who would sentence her brother to death had somehow become a close friend.

She remembered the Commander saying, _Beyond that fortress is home. Our home. Zaft._

_Wait? _she thought. _Zaft?_

_Shall it not pursue Orb?_

Just then, Athrun came, apparently about to assume his post up front.

"Is it true?" she asked him as he passed her. "Are you going back home after this battle?"

"If it is won," he answered, "or if it is unwise to continue fighting. From the looks of things, I'd say everything would be over by sunset."

_Everything would be over... The Crusade is done…_

_Orb will not be pursued!_

Just before he could speed off, Cagalli called out to him, "Athrun!"

He had almost forgotten. Yesterday, he had let her call him by name.

"Stay safe. And come back in one piece."

He would be the man to reap dozens of lives again. This was something he was not expecting to hear from her.

He just smiled and took glimpses of her as he rode away. It felt strange… how she called him by name. But it felt good.

Too good he couldn't put it in words.

ooooo

I thank everyone who reviewed last time, peeps who have been checking for updates, and those who sent me PMs. They keep me going, believe me. I keep telling myself I shouldn't care if people are reading my stuff or not, but let's face it. I'm human, and I need encouragement. working on the next chap RnR please 


	25. Stellar

Disclaimer: The author of this fic does not own gundam seed/destiny, or its characters, because if I claimed I did, ff

I promised this chap would come this week, so here it is! First, many thanks to everyone who reviewed in the last chap, it feels good to be appreciated. Without further ado…

Oh wait, remember what I said about you hating me in chap 25, aka, this chap? Got your guesses? Anyway, someone already got it right, and I bet some of you have guessed it already. Have fun reading this, anyway 

Disclaimer: The author of this fic does not own gundam seed/destiny, or its characters, because if I claimed I did, would delete my story—wouldn't it?—and the copyright people will sue me. Any similarities from other fics are purely coincidental, and so are any allusions to real events, places and people.

ooooo

Chap 25: Stellar

_Seashells took the place of sand in what seemed to be an endless beach. A girl lay asleep on a young man's lap, white foam touching the sides of her head, blithe kisses grazing her face with every passing of the waves. _

"_Shinn," the girl whispered. "Shinn's still here. Stellar's happy."_

_Lifting stray strands of hair on the girl's face, he answered, "Shinn is Stellar's friend. Shinn makes Stellar happy. Shinn protects Stellar."_

"_Shinn taught Stellar what 'thank you' means," she returned, closing her eyes again. Something warm, small and heart-shaped touched her forehead, crawling down to her lips. No matter how faint, the sensation lingered._

_When the girl opened her eyes again, she found four figures behind the young man—three men and one veiled woman. One of the men had green eyes. He told the girl, "Shinn must come with Shinn's friends now."_

"_Shinn's Friends?"_

"_Yes."_

"_But Stellar is Shinn's Friend."_

"_Shinn has other friends."_

"_Other Friends?"_

"_People wearing the same clothes Shinn is wearing."_

_All the men were wearing the same armor the young man had on._

"_Where is Shinn going?" the girl asked. "Can Stellar come?"_

"_No," replied the green-eyed man. "Stellar must stay in Vierna and give hope to the people."_

"_But Stellar doesn't want to! If Shinn goes to Shinn's friends and leaves Stellar, Shinn won't protect Stellar anymore!"_

_Violently, Stellar got up._

"_Stellar wants to come with Shinn, so Shinn can protect Stellar, so Stellar can be with Shinn, so Stellar can be happy!"_

_She was crying. Angrily, the girl pulled on the young man's arm, bringing him up to his feet. _

"_Shinn will come home with Stellar," she cried, dragging the young man away from his "friends". "Shinn will stay and make Stellar happy!"_

"_Shinn, come here," the tallest of the three men, the one with the white hair, called out. _

_Promptly, the young man stood his ground. Stellar couldn't pull him anymore. He said softly, "Let go, Stellar."_

"_Why?"_

"_Because Shinn needs to go."_

"_Why?"_

_More tears fell from her eyes. He was smiling. Stellar couldn't understand why he was smiling._

"_Is Shinn happy to be leaving Stellar behind? Shinn doesn't want to be with Stellar?"_

_The shortest of three men, the brown-eyed one, placed an arm on Shinn's shoulder. They were taking him away from her. Covered in wet steel, his arm slipped out of Stellar's grasp._

_The green-eyed man said, "No, leaving Stellar would make Shinn sad."_

"_Then why is Shinn leaving Stellar?" Stellar sobbed._

_The green-eyed man had gentle eyes, somewhat like a father's. "Because Shinn has other friends Shinn needs to protect. Friends other than Stellar. Even if leaving Stellar will make Shinn sad, Shinn loves Shinn's friends, so Shinn needs to go and protect Shinn's friends."_

"_But Stellar is Shinn's Friends, too! If Shinn needs to go away, Shinn must take Stellar."_

"_No, Stellar must stay here and give hope to the people."_

"_What is _Hope_? Why must Stellar give Hope to People? Who is _People_? Why would Stellar care for People? Stellar should care for Shinn!"_

"_But what about Murrue, Natarle, Shiho, Big Brother Auel and Big Brother Sting? Shouldn't Stellar care about them, too?" spoke the woman. All Stellar could see of her behind the windings of her veil were her warm, amber eyes. "Stellar has other friends, too. Stellar needs to protect Stellar's other friends. That's why Stellar needs to stay."_

_Stellar's friends—these words made more sense to her than "personal affairs" or "national duty". Stellar had stopped crying._

"_Are People… Stellar's friends, too?"_

_The woman nodded._

"_So Stellar needs to protect People?"_

_She nodded again._

"_How?"_

"_Give hope to the people. Make them happy."_

"_Happy… Stellar knows how to make People happy."_

_The woman let her veil slip, revealing her face. She was blonde, just like Stellar. They shared a strange semblance, like mother and daughter, but to Stellar, the woman was more beautiful then she could ever be. The woman continued, "Stellar must protect Shinn's friends, but Shinn and Stellar need to make each other happy, even if they are apart. To make Shinn happy, Stellar should promise to protect Stellar's friends, and to make Stellar happy, Shinn should promise to come back someday."_

"_Shinn will come back?"_

_A sparkle surfaced in Stellar's eyes. She sprang into a dash, woven into a dance among the crisp blue waves. The world seemed to spin around her, driving her dizzy, until the woman's hands held her still. Stellar couldn't help but stare at the woman's eyes. She was truly beautiful. _

"_Pretty Lady…" Stellar whispered. "Is Pretty Lady Shinn's Friend, too?"_

"_Yes."_

"_Pretty Lady" seemed to glow, like the sun._

"_Stellar tells Pretty Lady, 'thank you', for telling Stellar what to do."_

_The woman bent slightly, kissing Stellar's forehead, as if to bless her. _

"_Shinn! Shinn!" Stellar called out, running to him. Shinn's figure was only a pen's stroke against the horizon. No matter how far she ran, his figure never seemed to get any closer. Yet her smile never faded, even if the landscape melted into the horizon, much like a reflection dissolved with every passing of the waves. _

+o+

Stellar woke up to see a massive alcove towering over her head, shielding her from the sun's rays that then encompassed the high noon. With her were hundreds of women grappled by anxiety and children crying in fear of the sounds drumming the darkness. Every able-bodied man as young as 12 and as old as 60 was sent, leaving a multitude of widows and orphans if the city's men failed. This was the Mariners' underground chamber which housed those would could not fight and could only pray that their loved ones above come back alive.

And pray their hardest they did. The priests and priestesses of the local religion performed chants and rituals, hoping to exorcise the spirit of the sea to come in a giant wave that would consume the enemy. It sounded like a mass for the dead, the sound of hollow singing melted into the sobs and lamentations of the weak-hearted. Nameless faces sped past her as Stellar made her way through the labyrinth of hopeless eyes averted to the heavens, only to be blocked by cold stone shaking with every hoof pounding on them. Their voices, collated into one pitiful chant, fused with the barrage of discord above.

They could hear rocks crumbling from their setting, rolling on the earth with a rumbling sound that shook the underground chambers and their hearts.

"Did you hear that? They're bringing the fortress down."

" No, my husband's stationed there!"

But what chilled them the most were the sounds of steel marring flesh, squishing steel into the joints of men's armor—a squeaking, creaking sound as eerie as a dull saw forcedly being cut through the leg of a pig. Women were fainting from every direction, accompanying the sound of a dying man's final cry—the final stroke of a composer in a deathly overture—before the sound of a falling mass of flesh and steel served as the applause for the poor man's final performance.

These sounds were familiar for Stellar. She always heard them when her father was alive. At first, they scared her, back when she was little, but Murrue was always with her in her room to tell her that it was just the city choir practicing a new piece for their next performance. The clanging sounds of steel were special kinds of cymbals and xylophones, the horses' hooves were drums, and the battlehorn was a giant saxophone. Battle came and went and Stellar eventually got used to these sounds. Sometimes, she found them amusing, like a curious, ecstatic beat carrying her body into the drift of a dance.

_But why are people crying?_ she wondered. Almost everyone, save for Stellar, was crying. With every sound of what was for Stellar the sound of a grand gong, a woman would faint after bursting into hysteria along with dozens of other women huddling together in tight circles of horrid sobs.

_It's the city choir practicing,_ Stellar thought. _The city choir makes people happy. Hey, the city choir hit a high note. That's what Murrue calls it. _

A few feet above them, a mutilated man expired, crushed by a horse's rampaging limbs squishing his chest. His poor wife recognized his scream, the name his infant son. This sent her pouncing up the wall, clawing on the jagged walls of the chamber, desperately trying to climb up. Her nails broke—that was how hard she tried to dig her fingers into the rock to reach the ceiling so she could claw it open and comfort her dead husband. She had made it halfway up the wall when her grip slipped, causing her to fall. Her blood sprawled on the dust, mixing with the blood that dripped from the ceiling.

_Why is everyone crying?_ Stellar thought. _Why is everyone sad? _

Upon hearing his mother's body crash into rock, a baby burst into tears. Infants and children of all ages followed. Their mothers tried to calm all of them. Stellar wanted to help, but she did not know how.

_Give hope to the people_, the blonde woman in her dream told her. _Make people happy._

There was music, and there was Stellar. Stellar had everything she needed to make people happy.

"What is the princess doing?" one of the women asked.

"Everyone, come and watch!" Stellar chirped blithely as she took the infant in her arms, spinning as the moved about the crowd. "Stellar's dancing!"

"They're just spinning around!" one of the women cried.

"Shut up, girl, we already have enough to deal with here. And get your hands off my little brother!" Roughly, a girl a bit younger than Stellar pulled the infant out of her hands. This confused Stellar. Her dancing always made people happy. She looked at the boy. He was still crying.

"Not now," said another woman, comforting the princess. "She just lost her mother. Forgive her rudeness, Princess."

Everyone was still crying. _Make people happy, _the blonde woman told her, but how?

"Go away", the orphaned girl told Stellar, when the princess approached her.

Stellar asked, "How can Stellar make 'She' happy?"

"Go away. Just go away!"

"If Stellar goes away, will 'She' be happy?"

"I said go away. You're useless!"

"And People will be happy, too?"

"Go away!"

"Alright. So 'She' and People will be happy, Stellar will go away."

Baffled, they all watched Stellar climb out of the trap door into the war-torn city above. The girl Stellar called 'She' followed her frantically, shouting, "Wait, I didn't mean it! Princess, it's dangerous out there!" Before she could catch up with Stellar, the princess had already locked the door.

The door could be opened from inside, but not from the outside. Even if she changed her mind, Stellar would not be able to get in. But not one of them had the strength to even touch the door—not even the girl who shooed Stellar away.

Stellar's voice was like a humming bird singing, threading through the silent crevices of rock into the chamber, until it reached their ears. Everyone had stopped crying.

"Stellar's going away now! People are happy! Stellar's giving hope to the people, and makes Shinn happy!" was her song. She did not understand.

"She's going to die out there," one of the women whispered.

It was noon, but all they saw above them was black. The light had left them. All of them felt like hiding, ashamed of their spinelessness. 'She' felt crying, thinking she had caused their princess to walk straight to her dead. Her brother started crying again.

"Stop."

The boy wouldn't stop crying.

"Stop crying, coward. We're all cowards."

Frightened, the boy stopped.

"But we should stop being cowards. See the princess? She just walked into the battlefield to make us happy. To make us stop crying. To give us hope."

In the stillness of the air, they could hear the princess singing. They couldn't make out a word she was saying, the sound was too distorted by the clamoring of swords above. To anyone else, it would have been ramble, but for those whose faith hung by a thread, it was the only sound that mattered, blocking out all others like an immense, unbreakable wave.

+o+

The trapped door opened to the palace vestibule. Now, only one door stood between Stellar and the battlefield. The sounds were clearer.

_That doesn't sound like the city choir…_

Her fingers were shaking on the door. The door was heavier than it usually was.

"Door… won't let… Stellar out!" she cried. Finally, she braced herself to ram her small self into the door, demanding it to release her. Right before she made contact, something collided with the door from the other side. Whatever it was, it was huge.

It rammed into the door again. Stellar fell to her knees. One last mighty blow and the door gave way, crashing into the marble flooring. Shreds of broken wood pricked her cheeks.

"Stellar!"

It was Shinn's voice. Stellar looked up. Two black men on horseback stood before her. Shinn was not among them, Stellar thought.

"Get out of here! Now!"

It was still Shinn's voice. One of the black men descended from his horse and neared her. Stellar was afraid.

His companion called out, "The royals aren't here. Let's go."

The black man still took steps towards a terrified Stellar. His companion said, "You can't take her with you, Ensign."

A long blow of a horn resounded.

"We ride back. The Commander's calling for a retreat."

He was only a foot's stride away from her. The black man gasped, "We're losing?"

"It seems so. They've had it well today. Let's go."

"I'll come soon."

Sighing, his companion left.

"Stellar, it's Shinn. Stellar doesn't recognize Shinn."

With every inch he advanced, Stellar nudged backward. Shinn took off his helmet.

"It's Shinn. Shinn was just wearing different armor. Now come with Shinn. Shinn will take Stellar to somewhere safe."

She rose steadily. Shinn thought Stellar had recognized him.

"Black man isn't Shinn," she mumbled.

"What?"

"Shinn isn't red inside."

He touched his face. It was covered in blood. The girl dashed out the door. He felt his legs weaken. The Shinn Stellar knew was not a killer.

+o+

The sun had deserted them. In its place was a mass of thick clouds, the draping of a ruthless storm. Stellar just wanted to find her friends.

Zaft's army was funneling out of the great wall, chased out by hundreds of arrows overhead. Black man after black man hurried past Stellar, one of them knocking her down.

_Where is… everyone? Who are these people?_

People wearing the exact same clothes Shinn was wearing.

_Shinn's Friends,_ Stellar thought.

Shinn's friends also had heavy metal sticks raised to the sky, slicing away through red-shelled creatures. Soon, Stellar recognized that these red creatures made the high pitches she thought were songs by the city choir.

All of Shinn's friends were in black, just like Shinn was. One of them slashed through a red-shelled creature in front of her. A part of the red creature was cut off, and a fountain of something sticky spewed out. As the severed part rolled to her feet, she recognized the red creature.

"Big Brother Auel…" she whispered. Auel was not answering back.

"Big Brother?" Her eyes were starting to hurt. She did not know why. Her brother's face was blue, losing blood, its mouth open. Maybe he tried to tell her to go back.

"Leave," her brother's murderer shouted out. "You'll die!"

_Die…_

These men—all of them were wearing the exact same clothes Shinn was wearing.

_Shinn's Friends… but why?_

Auel's killer was Zaft's Commander. Athrun wanted to take the girl somewhere safe. But he had no choice. The girl ran away, terrified. His victim was her brother. Athrun could not blame her.

The arrows still rained overhead. In sync with them were the growing drops of rain. Somehow, the girl managed to evade every arrow coming her away. _Or maybe the archers were purposely trying to avoid her,_ he thought. The wind howled strongly. The tempest will not wait. Athrun took off, tailing the last of his men to leave in one piece.

+o+

How long and how far she ran, she did not know. She had made it to the seashore. "Why?" she asked herself.

"Why are Shinn's friends hurting Stellar's friends?"

The sea answered back with a fierce wave. The sea was angry. Murrue told Stellar that the sea was her mother.

"Is the sea scolding Stellar? Why? For being Shinn's friend?"

The waves pounded fiercely.

"Yes? Why?"

_Shinn is dangerous_, her brother, Sting, told her.

"But Shinn said Shinn protects Stellar!"

_Shinn was lying… Shinn must not be trusted. _

_Shinn's friends are hurting Stellar's friends… Stellar needs to protect… Big Brother Sting… Murrue… Shiho… Big Brother…._

_Auel? No, Big Brother Auel is…_

_Dead…_

"Dead?"

_Dead. Yes, dead. Because Stellar couldn't protect Big Brother Auel._

The voices seemed to be whispered by the sea, the rain, and the boisterous wind.

"Stop it!" she cried. "Too many… Stellar can't protect everyone!"

Raindrops felt like whiplashes covering her body in infinitely many wounds. The cold wind gnawed through each one.

"Why is Shinn's friends keeping Stellar from protecting Stellar's friends? Stellar could make Shinn happy by protecting Stellar's friends, and Shinn would make Stellar happy by promising to come back someday. Where's Shinn? Why isn't Shinn with Stellar?"

_Personal affairs,_ Shinn told her,_ should not intermingle with national duty. _

"Shinn isn't being fair. Stellar kept to Stellar's promise. Shinn lied."

A giant wave was coming her way. It looked like a big wall. When Stellar sees Big Wall, Stellar sees home."

"Stellar just wants to go home."

Home was where all her friends were. Murrue was there, Shiho, her two brothers…

"Maybe, Shinn is at home! Shinn came back to Stellar's home!"

Shinn told her before, _Shinn wants to know Stellar's home better, so Shinn could protect Stellar better. _

The sea's wall was coming. The sea seemed to tell her, _Come, child. Your home is here._ Stellar welcomed it with open arms. Behind the white wave, Stellar saw a tiny pen stroke glowing, getting closer and closer, making haste with every passing moment.

The sea, the rain, and the wind blurred her vision. "Shinn!" she called out, rejoicing what she believed was her cherished friend's return.

Stellar did not know how to swim. She fought to keep her head above the surface, but the sea had powerful arms, pushing her head deep into the blue.

_Help… Friends… help…_

No one was coming.

_Big Brother… Murrue… Shiho…_

Both armies have retreated into their respective camps. Sting and Shiho were busy seeing to their forces. Murrue was taken off into Orb, where they all believed she would be safe. Auel was no longer with them, the earth taking back what she had lent her people.

So was the sea. The Mariners believed that the sea was their mother. Now, the sea was taking back what was rightfully hers.

_Shinn… help…_

Shinn was not of her city. Shinn had other friends to protect, other reasons to fight for—reasons that outweighed Stellar.

No one was coming to save her.

_Everyone promised… protect… Stellar… Shinn… promised…_

_Liars._

The light was leaving. All she could see were the ripples on the surface above her, gentle arms that rocked her gently to a sea-borne cradle.

_The sea is Stellar's mother… Stellar is home… Stellar is happy…_

The girl needed no one else. Her mother's comfort was enough. She was killing her daughter, but it did not matter. For Stellar, the sea did something good for her.

"Stellar says… thank you."

ooooo

I wanted Stellar's character to do something heroic in a unique way, and Stellar's death should help with Shinn's character. I know a lot of people are expecting a Shinn-Stel happy ending, and I think I promised that to some people, but I changed my mind and thought this was a better ending for their love story. Boy, I'm evil to Shinn (and a lot of other characters).

Thanks so much for all the encouragement. Keep them coming!


	26. sorry

Hi. I am posting this upon a friend's advice that I should not leave people hanging.

To keep the long story short, I have not been updating this story for the last 5 months for two reasons. The first, and more obvious reason is that I have been VERY busy with school. I just transferred to a new degree program and am still adjusting, so I really need to focus on my schoolwork, if I don't want to be kicked out of my new college. The next few weeks will actually be very crucial for me, but I am taking the next 30 minutes to type this post because I feel I am really doing a huge injustice to people who have been waiting for the next update for the last 5 months, and to those who have just read this story and are still thinking I'll be updating anytime soon.

The second reason—and the more important one—is that I feel my purpose for continuing this story has been exhausted. I always tell people that I started with this story without really being into gundam seed or destiny (heck, i haven't even finished destiny yet) and got into gundam when i started receiving lots of reviews and enjoying the process of writing the story. It was this fanfic that got me, may I say, addicted, and even after my little addiction fit, what kept me writing was the same thing that got me started—the sheer love of the story. I really thought it was a good plot, and it is very rare I come up with a plot i can't stop thinking about (as in I dream about it sometimes) so I decided to continue, even if it was sort of straining on my academics.

And the burden is straining me now. The burden of knowing I have some unfinished business with you guys leads me to my second reason: an internal struggle. I'm so stuck with this story I can barely write anything. It preoccupies me so much, I can't even think straight when I have to meet deadlines in school. My love for this story is now in conflict with my other love—for the academe. Hey, I'm not that good at either field, but I really love them. And if I am to do well at one of them, or at least stay afloat, I have to give up one.

And that has to be this story.

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It took me a ton of self-deliberation to come up with this decision. I am officially putting this story...

ON HOLD.

For the next two or three weeks, I mean. I have to stop thinking about it so I can concentrate on my schoolwork. That said, the next update will come in.. I don't know, end of October?

Hehe, I couldn't resist I hope the drama worked, just to see if I'm still as ok as i used to be. That was fun. Anyway, everything I said above was true, I really was considering ditching this story so I could write other stuff. But I realized i love this story too much to give up on it, and this is the first fiction work I did that people actually appreciated. So I will keep on writing, until I finish this story. Please be patient. Thanks for everyone's patronage and support. See ya.


	27. A Reason for Everything

hello world. im late, but I'M BACK. anyway, sorry for the delay, because, well, simply put, my computer's busted again. so i have to save up my cash for computer rentals.

first, i want to thank everyone who sent a review for the sorry note. They're really encouraging and, to a huge extent, inspiring. Hope everyone would still bear with this ever-depressed victim of an evil schedule and even more evil professors (ok, that was a joke. my profs are nice.. well, some of them). rest assured that i will finish this story at all costs.

Disclaimer: The author of this fic does not own gundam seed/destiny, or its characters, because if I claimed I did, would delete my story—wouldn't it?—and the copyright people will sue me. Any similarities from other fics are purely coincidental, and so are any allusions to real events, places and people.

Chapter 26: A Reason for Everything

Two figures stood at the edge of a cliff, watching the waves as they ate away on crumbling rock.

"Does it sadden you? Her death?" asked one of them, a woman.

"Anyone who knew her would feel sad," said the other, a young man. "I'm no exception."

The water crept on the earth like a sea of snakes, the waves like giant ones jumping out of the sea without warning. Anyone who was not careful would have been eaten alive.

This was where Stellar died.

"I'm surprised you're not crying," Cagalli said. "I mean, you're a soldier, but that doesn't mean you're emotionless."

"She isn't the first friend I've lost. And I'm not the only one who lost someone. That's something everyone in the army has to get used to."

"Are you getting used to the feeling?"

"No. Not yet."

Cagalli had never seen a Zaft soldier cry. The thought was biting.

"They say I'll get used to it in time. You'll get used to it, too. You're planning on staying right?"

Shinn was obviously trying to change the topic. Cagalli squinted.

"Well?" Shinn waited impatiently.

"I don't know. I don't really have a reason to stay anymore."

Her mission as a spy was over. Zaft will no longer pursue Orb.

She continued, "I mean, the campaign's over."

Before the army set out for the fortress, Athrun had announced that they were heading for Aprilius, Zaft's capital, as soon as the battle is won. Yesterday, the Mariners had raised the white flag.

_For the South_, Shinn thought. Its last free race had been taken. They were going home.

But definitely coming back for Orb.

"My job was in the medical team. They don't need me anymore. I guess for me it's time to go home."

Shinn wasn't listening. In his hands was a lone white flower, an offering for Stellar's death. He let go of it. It didn't even survive half the fall. The wind tore it to pieces, blowing away the petals off to God knows where. Shinn could still see the petals as they landed, crushed by the sea's merciless hands.

"But you know, Cagalli, I've been thinking about it. You know what the king called this whole thing?"

She shook her head.

"A crusade. A journey with a higher purpose. A battle fought to 'bring the wandering into the light'. This time, the goal isn't just to defend the country. At the end of all of this, Zaft should rule over the whole world."

_The whole world_, Cagalli thought. Her heart skipped a beat.

_No. He must be exaggerating. Athrun told me. _

_Zaft would not attack Orb. He promised. _

"The king said it was the only way to have real peace," Shinn continued. "You believe that?"

"W… what?" Cagalli's mind drifted for a while.

Shinn sighed. "You're not listening." He grumbled, "No one's listening to me."

"No, just talk. I'm all ears. Besides, I think you need someone to talk to every now and then."

The way she talked—it was so kind. It still sounded clear against the howling wind. It seemed like she had a gift of making people talk.

"You know, before all of this, it used to be simple. Someone attacks the frontiers, that's the enemy, we come to defend Zaft territory. It was logical. When you get attacked you're supposed to defend yourself, right? Everyone feels like a hero after each hard battle won. It was easy to get psyched about every fight. For me, all I had to do was think of everyone at home, everyone I want to protect. I always thought of my uncle, Meyrin and—I hate to admit it—Luna."

The last name made Cagalli giggle. "We're friends. Don't make a big story out of it," Shinn barked.

It's strange how they can still laugh after all that has happened.

"Anyway, that was before. If we lost, they would become slaves or something like that. A lot of Aprilians would become slaves. We didn't want that. It was easy to understand. That's why I always fought with no hesitation. I was beating up Zaft's enemies, all the bad guys. It's what my sister would have wanted, had she been alive."

Cagalli saw how Shinn's eyes saddened. "This time? What makes this Crusade different?"

"Stellar was one of the people I wanted to protect. But she's dead."

The way Stellar died gave Cagalli the chills. One of the defeated soldiers said, "She was eaten by the sea."

"You couldn't protect her. There was no way you could."

"Yes, because our exact orders were to kill every Mariner until they surrender."

"Stellar was a civilian. She didn't die by Zaft's sword."

"Many of her people died by our sword. Why? Because we barged in, wanting to take their land and their freedom for the capital. Why? Does the capital want to make servants out of them? Is it their idea of Zaft's 'divine duty' to shelter the world under its wings? For the good of Zaft?"

Shinn could remember every word from the king's message at the beginning of this whole thing. It was meant to be the soldiers' mantra in battle: every victory is for the greatness of the "Zaft empire".

"That was just a fancy speech to justify this. You know me. I like picking fights with the Commander, but I always end up obeying his orders. I respect him. I respect the king, whom he answers to. Before, I never had a problem with that. I never bothered asking why we did the things we did, why we sacrificed this and that battalion to win. We won, Zaft is safe, that's all that mattered. I didn't want to make things complicated. But this time, I just… I just couldn't help asking why."

Shinn's angry eyes fell from the pitch black sky to the sea. He searched for even the slightest trace of the flowers he threw. He found none.

"When you do the attacking, it feels different. These people have done nothing to Zaft. They were just minding their own lives, but because you wanted to make a better Zaft…"

The last word carried a hint of resentment. Shinn wasn't supposed to be feeling this way. He was a soldier.

"You're taking away what belongs to all these people—threatening them with force, killing them if they refuse. We don't loot the cities, but in the end, the capital will receive tribute from them. I guess that's how we make a better Zaft. I call it stealing."

His eyes fell on Cagalli, who was deep in thought. The sound of the waves and the wordless minute dampened his heated emotions.

"I've been trying to understand. The king is a good man—an honorable man. He wouldn't make us set out on a war so crazy…"

"No, you're right. Conquering is as good as stealing."

Cagalli recalled her history lessons.

"It's how kingdoms make themselves stronger. More territory means more people to work the fields. More gold means more things can be bought. More men means more soldiers to protect itself. Your king might be thinking that. The good of Zaft rests on the cities it conquers."

"That's not really what he said," Shinn scowled. "He said it was Zaft's duty to unite everyone under one empire because they needed someone superior to rule over them—I guess the king thinks we're that great . The Crusade was for the good of everyone, conqueror and conquered."

The moon was out. Shinn wasn't sure if he just needed more hours of sleep, but Cagalli seemed to glow under the moonlight. Pensive, she was strangely beautiful.

"I think I get your king's point. But there's a con side to that."

Shinn was all ears.

"If you think about it, all of Zaft is really just land conquered by the capital. The real Aprilians are just those whose ancestries root back to the forefathers of Aprilius. Everyone else was just a conquered man, his ancestors 'robbed' of their freedom. You're from Zaft's southern cities, right? You're one of those men, too."

Shinn thought about it. He was just as good as Heliopolians, Lunians and Viernans are now. Victims of Aprilius' 'robbing' spree.

"But you call yourself Aprilian because you were brought up that way. You fight for it. You'd die for it. Race, lineage, they all disappear when you answer to a new king and consider yourself as a part of the people who conquered you. After all, nationality is a matter or recognition. Today, the conquered cities will hate the men who conquered them. They'll do everything to get back their freedom. But if their children do not continue the battle, it will be a battle lost. That's when the conqueror wins. Whatever good things the conqueror got from its campaigns, all of the provinces will share. That includes the skills of a good king. That might be what your king is after. In the long run, all of this will make a better Zaft—where all of the conquered have believed that no lines of race exist among them and the capital. That might be what he meant when he said that this war was for the good of everyone."

Cagalli smiled happily when he saw Shinn awestuck. "Surprised? Forget the sterotype. Blondes are _not_ stupid."

"Actually, I'm not really sure if I understood everything you said," Shinn said, scratching his head. Cagalli was far from pleased.

"Anyway, what's the con side?"

"The con side," Cagalli continued indignantly, "is when the empire gets too big. It implodes."

"You mean?"

"It consumes itself. Come on, if you're one man and you have to watch over hundreds of miles of land… is that humanly possible? It's why Zaft never tried to conquer Orb. It's too far away. Prone to foreign invasion and internal rebellion. A king that great can never be."

Cagalli heard a sword drawn. It was Shinn's. By instinct, a soldier draws his sword upon hearing an insult to the king.

Later, she heard it sheathed.

"You're right. A king that great can never be. Which is why I can't help but ask why we're still conquering more. I wish the Commander explained things to us like you did. If someone like Stellar's going to die because of this, we better understand why."

Soon the setting will be devoid of the two figures, the sea still angry and hungry, black water consuming the earth with every lash of the waves.

* * *

The people were still hostile to the Zaft army, so Zaft soldiers were ordered to stay out of the fortress for the time being. That included the prisoners, Viernans and Martians held captive in the war. They were treated humanely, unless they tried to escape. They were skewed with spears for all the other soldiers to see. Shiho bit her lips as she recalled how some of her best men were killed right in front of her. Fear instilled authority and kept the survivors from escaping, but in her, it kept the flame of rage burning. Yet there was nothing she could do but keep her cool and her pride as Martius' last princess.

The Mariners were not won over easily. It took ten assaults with Zaft incessantly on the offensive. On the ninth, the fortress shut before Shiho and two of her battalions could make it inside. Shiho had no choice but to surrender. She had her pride, but a massacre of her men was uncalled for.

Without their most able military leader, the Mariners didn't stand a chance. The following day, the Mariners came out with only two battalions—the rest just watched from the fortress, waiting for the defeat that was bound to come. _Perhaps the men knew he didn't stand a chance, _Shiho thought. Sting's loyal forces fought desperately. They were all killed—butchered in front of their helpless leader.

"You should have killed him. Why spare him?"

"He's your prince and you want him killed?"

"I will not answer to a man as pathetic as Sting. He is not my prince."

"You're supposed to be allies."

Shiho despised the man who had the chance to kill Sting but didn't do it. It wasn't because he picked a fight with her over a boomerang or because he thought women were naturally weaker than men.

"Alright, why didn't you kill me, then?"

She hated him because sparing her was an act of pity.

"Or is it because I am a woman? Answer me."

She was indignant; her pride as a princess never faltered since she got caught. Bound in ropes that nailed her bottom to the ground, she still sat upright, holding her back straight. Yzak would not look at her in the eye.

"You might regret it."

Yzak was eating an apple. He looked at the apple, then at Shiho, whose face was perfectly straight but eyes ablaze. He took out his sword. Shiho's eyes widened. He stepped closer to her. Her heart pumped faster, her mind thinking of a way to free herself.

He raised his sword. There was no way out. She closed her eyes, waiting for the impact…

That never came.

"Here. It's good."

On his hand laid half an apple—the half he hadn't eaten on.

"Oh I forgot. Your hands are tied."

The ropes binding her hands were cut away. Yzak handed her the apple. She took it.

Just before he could leave the stable Shiho was incarcerated in, Yzak felt something hard hit him on the head. It was the apple.

"You think I'd eat something stained by my people's blood? Fool!"

Hatred was marked all over her face. Her feelings she could no longer hold back.

She was crying.

"I guess that's what they all say in the start," Yzak sighed. "Anyway, the Commander said I should feed you. I'll just tell one of the cooks to bring you some food."

+o+

"Never thought I'd live to see the day you cry. And I can't believe it was that lousy lieutenant who got you to do it."

"He almost killed you, don't call him lousy," Shiho snapped, sitting up straight again, her eyes still puffy with tears.

Sting bit his lips to control his emotions. "Anyway, you might want to read this."

He handed her a crumpled sheet of paper, torn at one edge. Its last reader was obviously angry at the sender.

"From Murrue?"

Sting nodded reluctantly. "Something to cheer you up."

She could see the change in him. The Sting she knew would have burned the note.

"She sent us that the night you were caught. I couldn't find it in my heart to do what it said, but _as usual..._"

Nevertheless, Sting could not hide his resentment.

"The rest of the officials thought it was the best for our cities. Go on, read it."

She unfolded the note shakily.

_To Shiho Hapnenfuss, who, of all my friends, I trust with my city's future_

_Fate had forsaken us. Today, I watch over our city, torn and made helpless by a monstrous enemy. With Mwu La Flaga as our guide and protector, I ride with the rest of the Mariners' governing council to Orb, where we pray King Uzumi will accept us. I curse myself for needing to resort to turning to Orb for many times in a row now, seeing my weakness in war. I curse my inability to help you in these darkest of days, that all I can do is tuck tail and run for cover while you and our people put your lives in peril. But I understand that you sent me here so that if our cities fall in Zaft's hands, there would still be a free Mariner to continue the battle. _

"She's creating a government in exile, like you wanted," Sting interrupted.

A weak smile formed on her lips. "Good girl," she whispered, and read on.

_But forgive me for what I ask of you next. I know how proud our people are. They will never pay homage to a foreign king. And you shall never answer to another Commander. But I ask of you this: tomorrow, put your swords and shields down, and surrender your freedom to Zaft's king._

For a second, all sights and sounds stopped. She read the words again. _I must be mistaken_, she thought.

_Surrender... to Zaft's king._

"What? Is she crazy?" Shiho burst. "Never! Not in my deathbed, not in the name of my father, not in the name of my people! Never will I just give up what so many of my men have died for! And she wants me to give up just like that? No!"

"I found myself feeling the same way when I heard the message. I couldn't do it. My brother died for it. My sister," his voice softened, "poor Stellar, died for it, too."

Bitter memories of how Stellar might have died—Shiho did not see how Stellar cried for her help. She could only guess how the sea, so cruel, ate her alive.

"I couldn't just put down my sword. I tried to convince the high officials to let the army out. They wouldn't. I called out all our remaining forces and told them how this surrender was an insult to everyone who died."

He let out a dry laugh, recalling how only a handful of soldiers joined his battlecry. "But the high officials had already let Murrue's message out. The people trust her more than they do me. Luckily, a couple of battalions felt the same way I did. We fought hardly. In the end, only fifty of us were left against Zaft's thousands. The lieutenant was about to deliver the finishing blow. He was intent on finishing me off."

_He never intended to spare Sting, _Shiho thought. _But why did he spare me?_

"But his Commander came in, saying I surrender. I said I never will and I'd be better off dead. He took off his helmet. What he did next was unthinkable."

* * *

It was noon. The sun was hot on Sting's face. On all their faces, except on one. Amidst the white light, there stood Zaft's Commander, unfazed and emotionless. Sting had a good look at him. The most feared man anywhere wasn't any older than he was. Without the armor, he would have been a charming young bachelor.

"How can I convince you?" the Commander asked.

"You can't. Go up the fortress. You'll easily convince the cowards there. They've been itching to give up."

Athrun looked up. From this far, he could feel the Mariners shiver.

"But not me. Not my men who have remained loyal to the people and to our ancestors. We'd rather die than pay homage to a foreign king."

The Commander averted his eyes up to the heavens, unshielded from the sun's harsh light. Yet he didn't even blink, as if he wanted to absorb every cruel sunray piercing his eyes.

When he looked back at Sting, red rims had formed on the Commander's green eyes.

"To death. We'll see about that."

In minutes, all that remained of Sting's men were lined up, shoulder to shoulder, each held down by one Zaft soldier. They numbered to 49 men.

Without much care or drama, the Commander held one man by his hair and aimed his sword on the man's throat.

"If you don't surrender, this man dies."

Everyone up the fortress was aghast. All of Zaft's army stood perfectly still, even the soldiers holding Sting's men down. But the shock in their faces was unmistakable.

"I'll count to three. One..."

Silence.

"Two..."

Something in Sting burst, _Say it, say it! Surrender!_

_I can't, _he told himself. _I can't just throw away what my people have fought for all these years!_

He shouted for everyone to hear, "I can't surrender!"

_He'll never do it... the way he dealt with the Lunian king... he will not kill so pointlessly!_

Steel squishing flesh was all that could be heard. A body fell to the ground.

"That one was to show you that I mean business. Let's do it again."

"One... two..." echoed in his ears countless times.

"I'm almost at the last man, Prince. Aren't you going to try and stop me?"

Sting hadn't noticed that he was already crying. Heads rolled at his feet one after another, as if the Commander had purposely thrown the heads to his direction. Yet the resolve in all of them was firm. Not one of them was scared.

The Commander was at the last man.

"Pull him closer so he can see better. Maybe that's why this isn't making him surrender."

Soldiers roughly dragged Sting to the last man to be beheaded, just a few feet away from him. It was then that he heard the Commander whisper something to the poor soldier, whose eyes fiercely stared at Zaft's man of war.

Suddenly, the Commander's unchanging expression reflected something Sting thought he'd never see in the man.

"Do not prolong your people's suffering. Surrender."

"No!" barked the young man, fierce as a wild dog.

"Do not prolong _my _suffering. I just want to go home."

There was sadness. Weariness. Pity. _For who? _Sting asked.

_For us? Or for himself?_

The last man of Sting's battalions was only Shinn's age. Athrun did not want to kill someone so young.

The young man spat out. "No. Not even if you beg for it."

Athrun raised his sword. Just before it made contact, a voice resounded, hoarse but still strong. Athrun let out a sigh of relief, without much care if anyone noticed.

* * *

"Then I surrendered," Sting finished. "That kid did not deserve to die. He was too young. More importantly, he proved that Zaft's Commander is no god. He isn't as invincible as he seems to be. Read the rest of Murrue's note. You'll find my little story useful."

The last part of the note was scribbled in haste. Upon finishing it, she smiled, dusting the earth off her hands.

_Yes, I ask you to surrender for our people. Even if you kill the 20, 000 they have now, the other 40, 000 will come to kill you. You must understand. Our chances of winning are too small. I have no military experience, but even I understand that. _

_Tomorrow, surrender our land, but please, do not surrender you hearts. The day will come when we have become stronger and more prepared, and that is the day that we stand up and reclaim what is rightfully ours. For now, let us wait. _

_Their kings are no gods. Our day will come. _

* * *

The damp feel inside his tent was a welcome relief from the stinging sun, but the sudden cool made his head hurt. Tired—no, exhausted—he fell on all fours, catching his breath. His vision was blurring. His throat parched and aching for water, he hastily unstrapped all of his armor. The smell of blood turning into steam with the sun's heat was just horrible. A water bottle, still cold with a little ice inside, was a few inches out of his reach. Just before he could reach for it, he heard someone rudely open the flaps.

"Look at you," she eyed him, as if in disgust. "What do you think you just did?"

"I made the Mariners' prince surrender, ordered the army to call it a day, and told the Mariners a governor will be sent from the capital. That's about it."

He didn't feel like putting up a conversation. He just wanted some sleep. But the woman before him demanded an explanation.

"Oh," Athrun said, wiping off the cool water on his lips, "and I killed 50 men to get the job done. Anything else I forgot?"

"48."

"You bothered to count them? Great."

"What is wrong with you? That was pointless killing!"

"Pointless? It got their prince to surrender. It got the job done for the day. How can that be pointless?"

"That is not Athrun talking to me," the girl muttered, approaching him. None of the soldiers even wanted to get near him after the butchering. But this girl...

"Look. Up to now, everything you did was understandable. When you scared the wits out of the Sabadoans, when you let the Lunian king live, even when you killed the Heliopolian king with his son... they were all for a reason. But this one, this one!"

"What about it?"

"Look at me!"

His face, all this time averted the other way, now faced the girl who berated him. His cheek was red from the slap she gave him to get his attention.

"Cagalli, should you care if I just killed 50 people?"

"That was not 50. Don't talk about numbers so carelessly!"

"Why do you care if it was a hundred, a thousand? I've killed more before, and no one ever tried to stop me."

"Because I know you don't like killing people, and you would never strike a defenseless man."

Athrun sat down and took a basin with clean water. He took out a rag, soiled with dirt, and soaked it in the water, wrung it, and wiped it—first, before anywhere else—on his face.

"In Sabadoa, you scared them because you knew they were chickens. Now they're part of Zaft. In Lunius, you spared the king because you knew he would realize how well Zaft can rule them. Now he's governor. In Heliopolis..."

He let the rag fall from his face; now he could see Cagalli. The enraged look on her face had changed. It was so familiar.

"You killed that child because you didn't want him to get hurt anymore. Maybe you could have helped him get over it, but it doesn't matter now. Your intentions were good, and maybe the kid is in a happier place. I admire you because of that. You always made the hard decisions—maybe you were wrong sometimes, but you always had the good of someone else in mind. The things you did were never for you. Everything you did was so selfless."

She knelt beside him.

"But what you did today... Killing so many people bound with their hands behind their back, unable to fight back... it just wasn't you. I just couldn't..."

She gulped, as if she was holding back something. "It just wasn't the Athrun I knew."

The eyes that held him now were the same questioning ones from Heliopolis—asking him for a justification.

"Why did you do it?"

The endless question. The question that just leads to more questions. The question he never really could answer.

"If I were Sting, I would have surrendered before the first man was beheaded. Even if the people themselves would rather die than surrender, I would never let them do that. Not when they no longer have the strength to fight. My purpose is to save the most lives I can. I would not have let my pride get in the way. I thought Sting would think the same way I would. I was wrong."

Her face was blank. The explanation wasn't enough.

"I hate it when people ask me why. The reasons I have are never enough to justify the things I did. Sometimes, I just want to tell them I was following orders."

"That's an even worse reason. It means you don't know what you're doing."

"Believe me, when you start killing—the moment your sword hits flesh and rips it open, you forget all the reasons you had. Even if it was for self defense or a higher purpose. The reasons wouldn't matter anyway. You can't paste the skin back. Even if you're having second thoughts, you might as well forget them. Just go on with it. The man will die anyway."

Her face was still blank. He couldn't tell what she was thinking. "That's how I feel every time I kill. You know the other reason why I did what I did today?"

She shook her head. Casually, Athrun wiped the blood that dried on his chest. He noticed how Cagalli's eyes moved away from his figure.

Being along with a half-naked man in a tent was awkward. Being alone with a man covered in scars and blood and_ casually_ talking about ripping men open—that was morbid. Shrugging that thought off, Athrun continued.

"If you're going to rule cities as stubborn as the Mariners', you should show them who's boss. What I did today proves that rebellion faces grave consequences. That should keep things quiet around here. Well, it might not, but it was worth a try."

An awkward silence followed. For the both of them, it was like talking to a stranger. Cagalli was the first to break it.

"So you know they'll rebel?"

"In fact, I've gotten word that some of the ministers were able to escape and have set up a government in exile. Where, I still don't know. Yes, we can expect a rebellion. I just don't know when."

He spoke of it like it happened everyday. Cagalli was not surprised. Zaft was a country of conquered cities—all of them, at some point, were widows and orphans of soldiers killed in defending their land from the invaders. All of them, at some point, wanted revenge.

"How is that going to lead to real peace? When you have to keep on killing to keep the empire together?"

When Cagalli left, Athrun recalled what his friend in Heliopolis said.

_It seems that it is the right thing to do after all, this crusade._

The crusade was launched to unite every man under one empire. With all men answering only to one king, there would be no need for an army. There would be no need to fight. No need for him to kill.

It was the war to end all wars. The crusade to end all crusades.

It was a kind of peace. An eternal peace. A kind of heaven.

Where his mother was. At least a piece of that on earth. It sounded great. It was a good reason to fight for, to die for. A good reason to kill for.

"_How is that going to lead to real peace? When you have to keep on killing to keep the empire together?"_

It echoed in his head, as if Cagalli and her questioning eyes had never left.

ooooo

i started using the divider bars instead of the usual (o+) sign for everyone's convenience. So there goes my comeback chap.. finally. next chap will be the last chap before they ride back to zaft. the semester's already started for me (oh sleepless nights) but i will try to update as often as i can. anyway, the next chap is halfway done. pray my computer works soon.. (please, please, please) and please review. no, they do not solve all my problems, but yes, they help pull me out of the pool of depression! see ya people (i missed saying that).


	28. A Fresh Start

Hey, I'm actually meeting deadlines! (and I'm way ahead of schedule ^_^) anyway, thanks for all the love in the last chap. On with the love (literally)!

You know how I usually like to have double meanings, leave the reader to think of it for herself and sometimes end up being confusing? This is one of the few chaps I explain things more, erg, frankly. Let's see how you guys react to that.

Btw, just in case some people might not know, last chap was not done in chronological order. The first scene was actually the part where Athrun killed the lot of people, followed by the _last_ part of the fic (ie, the verbal fight with Cagalli), then by the Shinn-Cagalli conversation at the beginning. Just thought I should clear that up.

Disclaimer: The author of this fic does not own gundam seed/destiny, or its characters, because if I claimed I did, would delete my story—wouldn't it?—and the copyright people will sue me. Any similarities from other fics are purely coincidental, and so are any allusions to real events, places and people.

Chap 27: A Fresh Start

Aprilians did not bury their dead. The bodies were burned and the ashes were brought home for their families to grieve on. There was some practical purpose to it. It was not convenient for the army to bring entire bodies home after every campaign. Urns were easier to carry. The army started cremation for the dead, and the rest of society followed.

Cagalli and Shinn were back from the seashore, just in time for the last burning ceremony for the Crusade. Smoke crowned the flames like the souls of the dead, climbing up the ladder of stars that filled the night sky. Cagalli watched the soldiers as they laid their fallen comrades with sad eyes.

But not one man was crying.

From a far corner, another woman stood. Her dignified air was unmistakably familiar. It was Shiho, who Cagalli saw in Sabadoa.

Coincidentally, the woman noticed Cagalli. Cagalli saw how the woman seemed to recognize her.

_But she never saw my face_, Cagalli thought. _Does she..._

By instinct, Cagalli backed away. Also by instinct, Shiho sprang to a dash. Scratching his head as he watched the two women in a chase, Shinn grumbled, "The Commander sure has a lot of competition," not knowing why Shiho was chasing Orb's princess.

Finally catching up with her, Shiho grabbed Cagalli's wrist. "Why are you running away?"

"Sorry, instinct," she said, her breath short.

"Princess, what are you doing here?"

_I knew it_, Cagalli thought. Shiho had visited Orb the year before.

Shiho lowered her voice, "Are you here as a spy?"

Shiho's sharpness surprised her.

"Was a spy. Now that Zaft isn't a threat to Orb anymore, I'm just part of the medical team."

"So you were here even before Zaft reached our fortress?"

"Since Heliopolis."

"No news from Orb?"

"I got one letter from my brother the other day, but it only told me that they've learned that Zaft isn't attacking Orb anymore and that there was nothing to worry about."

Disappointed, Shiho sighed. Cagalli asked, "Why?"

"I was going to ask you what happened to Murrue, one of Vierna's leaders. I sent her to Orb with one of your lieutenants, Mwu La Flaga."

"_In fact, I've gotten word that some of the ministers were able to escape and have set up a government in exile. Where, I still don't know. Yes, we can expect a rebellion. I just don't know when."_

"Did I say something wrong?" Shiho asked, noticing the sudden change in Cagalli.

"If Zaft finds out Orb is sheltering a rebel, Orb will be attacked. We can't risk it. We can't accept Murrue."

"What are you saying? Zaft is our common enemy, the invader we have to defend ourselves against."

"Zaft is headed home tomorrow. Orb is safe."

"What makes you think they won't come back for Orb? They're probably just off to get more supplies!"

Cagalli fell silent.

"I don't know what message got to Prince Kira," Shiho continued, "but whatever it was, it could be a decoy. Zaft can just be playing you to get your guard down. Princess, we can't let that happen!"

Suddenly, Shiho stopped. Cagalli turned around to see Nicol just a few feet away, close enough to hear the last words Shiho said.

But like nothing happened, Nicol said, "Isn't it cold out here? The bonfire at base camp's much warmer."

Shiho went ahead. Frozen in her tracks, Cagalli stuttered, "Nicol, what you heard... all that was... it..."

"Relax, we already know what Lady Shiho thinks. We can't expect her not to try to sway you to their side."

"No, about..."

"What, something wrong?"

Cagalli struggled to push out, "Did you hear the last thing she said? Who I was?"

"What? Didn't you want us to know?"

A few weeks ago, she wouldn't have. If the army found out she was Orb's princess, they would immediately suspect her to be a spy.

Even if she had stopped being a spy, letting her identity out was still dangerous.

"If you found out who I was, you might wonder why I never told you who I was earlier," Cagalli finally answered. "You might suspect me to be a spy."

As if on cue, a sudden gust of wind blew. Cagalli took it as a bad sign.

"But I swear, I'm not a spy."

Not anymore. Technically, she wasn't lying.

"Relax."

Nicol's smile was light and comforting.

"I won't tell anyone. I don't know why... well, I think I have an idea..."

His smile faded. He knew.

"But I think you don't want anyone to find out you're Orb's princess."

+o+

Cagalli and Nicol kept the silence until Nicol asked Cagalli to go to base camp without him. He told her his superior gave him a very important _confidential_ task and he must not be disturbed.

"Doing a little bird watching, Captain?"

Le Creuset came out from the shadows with his right arm wrapped in bandages. He was injured from the last battle.

During their stay in Lunius, Nicol had the locals teach him their famed art of birdcatching. "Birds flying in this area are some of the most unique in the world," Nicol answered.

_Obviously up to something... secret. Very interesting_, Le Creuset thought. "True. Pink parrots are unique to the South."

A pink parrot hovered above their heads, flying in circles. Minutes later, Le Creuset left. Nicol felt his chest decompress. It was only then that he called the pink parrot to descend.

"Nicol, Nicol, Nicol! How do you do? I'm fine, thank you. Too bad, too bad, too bad!"

"Damn, it already knows my name. What if this thing gets away?" Nicol grumbled. "What did she call you? Oh, yes. Haro, please!"

The bird's yapping stopped immediately. The bird was impressively clever; it was getting hard for Nicol to call it in. The message attached to its leg was less hastily written this time.

_Brother, I'm fine. I just want to tell you that I'm thinking about joining them back in their journey to Aprilius. Now that Zaft is no longer a threat to Orb, I'm sure you won't mind if I go see their country. You know I've always wanted to see the West._

_Your last letter was a comfort. I was worried someone might be intercepting my letters. I'm happy you didn't have to use the information I gave you. May the Divine bless you, and remember that I will always be safe under his watchful eye._

"What did it say?" A voice from behind asked.

"Not much. Just asking her brother if he'd let her go to the capital with us. Are you sure we're letting her come?"

"Yes."

"Aren't we going to tell anyone else who she is?"

"No."

Nicol was following basic military protocol. First, whatever you want to say, inform the officer _directly_ above you. Second, whatever that officer says, follow before you question.

He had been intercepting Cagalli's messages since they left Lunius.

"I think I've put off the question long enough. Why can't we tell the king? And what do we do when she finds out?"

His superior, apparently, wasn't. Right now, only Nicol and his direct superior knew the identity of Orb's spy to Zaft.

"We can't let anyone know who Cagalli is. You know what happens to spies."

Spies were exhausted for information. Nicol didn't want to think of the possibilities.

"Cagalli has done a lot for us, and even if it might have been all for cover, I won't deny a lot of our soldiers have lived because of her efforts. This is the least consolation we could give."

Nicol's superior was right. Cagalli did not deserve the torture.

"Besides, you've been intercepting her messages. Right now, she's perfectly harmless."

"But we can't keep her with us forever. Eventually, she'll find out about the attack to Orb, and she'll do everything possible to escape. I'm sure she'll spill out everything she knows. What do we do then?"

"We'll think of what to do when that happens. For now, just do as I tell you, and keep her thinking everything's fine."

As his superior looked on, Nicol fleshed out a paper and pen. It took him more than two months to master Prince Kira's handwriting, and he was going to need full concentration if he was going to fool the prince's sister.

+o+

When she reached the medical quarters, Cagalli decided to do a last check on all the men she was treating.

"Lt., why were you out?"

Le Creuset's sneer was never comforting. What made it even more eerie was that they were alone in that tent.

"Just hoping to catch a little fresh air," he said coolly.

_I'm not buying that_, Cagalli grumbled mentally. _Whatever. None of my business, I suppose. _"Do try to get some sleep. You leave tomorrow morning."

"Your caring gestures are endearing. No wonder the Commander likes having you around."

In an instant, her eyes sharpened. Le Creuset teased, "It's nothing to be shy about. He's very much single… and eligible."

Her eyes grew even sharper. "So it's not that," Le Creuset fingered his chin, searching the tent's ceiling for answers. "I give up. What did he do to you to make you so angry?"

"Nothing."

"Something he said, then?"

"No."

"Well, if he didn't say it, he didn't do anything… Gosh, I've run out of verbs to use…"

_And the way this man makes a joke out of everything serious_, Cagalli cursed in her thoughts, watching as Le Creuset's poker face amusedly ruminated.

He finally said, "Ah, let's try this. Something he didn't say?"

Her eyes became less sharp.

"Something he didn't tell you? Something you wanted to know?"

Reluctantly, Cagalli nodded. He wouldn't stop asking if she didn't.

"Aw… tell me, then. Maybe I can help you."

"None of your business," she snapped immediately.

"Maybe I know the answer you seek. It wouldn't hurt to try."

"There's no way you'd know. Only Athrun can answer the question."

Three seconds passed. Then it hit her.

"Oh, you're on a first name basis now," he chirped like a nosy humming bird. "Interesting…"

"That's none of your business, too," Cagalli scowled, slightly pink.

Le Creuset asked Cagalli to get him a glass of water.

"I am not your personal maid," Cagalli said, after handing him a glass he finished in one gulp. Then he gave her that annoying Cheshire grin.

"Is this your way of flirting with me? Stop it. It's annoying."

He handed her back the glass. "Don't jump to conclusions, Milady. I'm just trying to be friendly."

"That's not the message getting to me."

"Unlike someone I know…" The grin was wiped off his face. "I know what's mine and what isn't. And I'll never take what isn't mine."

Cagalli rubbed the thought off. _This man is 30-something years old, unmarried and… he might be gay for all I know. But I don't think he's a maniac._

She turned sharply, placing the glass back from where she got it. _No, I don't think Zaft's king would put someone like that in such a high position._

"Milady, what do you think of this war?"

Milady—the only men to use it were the really old ones, or the young ones trying to sound mature but miserably failing to do so. Le Creuset wasn't that old, but he definitely sounded beyond his years.

"This Crusade? This war to end all wars. This war to conquer and unite the world under one king."

Cagalli answered, "I think it's about thousands of men dying for a really ambitious selfish king."

"Yes, go on."

"I just called your king a selfish jerk. You're not mad?"

"You've changed overnight. A couple of days ago, you wouldn't have the stomach to say that. Headstrong as you are, you're not that brave. But after Athrun's little exhibition, I think you see him differently now, and, in effect, this whole Crusade."

She paced to the other end of the tent and crossed her arms. "I never believed conquering could be justified by anything. These people have done nothing to you. I never told you that because…"

It was not a practical thing to do. She was a spy. It would have gotten unwanted attention, and why they conquered what they did was irrelevant to her mission. They were the enemy. She shouldn't care less.

Unfortunately, she did care. Throughout her stay, Cagalli had gotten mixed reactions from everyone. Some people gave her suspicious looks, but many just wanted to be friends with her. They were all good-natured people, somewhat substituting the friends and family she had in Orb. They all treated her kindly—Luna, Meyrin, Dearka, even Yzak and Shinn. They were annoying sometimes, but they were all good people.

And then there was Athrun. When they set out, she was already indebted to him, he having saved her life when she almost killed him. She went about spying on him and his men, sometimes thinking it was betrayal, but doing it nevertheless because nothing, for her, should outweigh Orb. Athrun was the enemy. He was a good man, but he was the man to beat. Saving his life once was enough. Guiding this misguided puppet of his father was not her moral duty anymore. _More importantly_, she thought, _would it matter if I told him what I believed in?_

"Would he pull back the entire army if I told him what he was doing was wrong? I think not."

Silence. Le Creuset with his mask on—his expressions a puzzle impossible to piece together. She couldn't see his eyes, but they seemed to see right through her.

"I thought young people believed in what _could_ be more than old people like me do. It wouldn't have hurt to try."

Le Creuset was right. The way Athrun was not able to answer the last question she gave—it got him thinking. It never saved any lives, but it could have. Had she thrown out the question earlier, Athrun might have thought over his actions and ordered the Crusade to abandon the campaign, realizing how pointless the whole thing was. Lives could have been saved. Those 50 defenseless men he beheaded could have been saved. That little girl eaten by the sea could have been saved.

Had she posed the question back when they first met in Heliopolis, many more lives would have been spared. She was too shaken back then. Things happened fast. All she said was…

_I know enough about Zaft politics to understand that you are just the army's Commander. The orders come directly from Zaft's king, Patrick Zala. Your father._

_You're a tool, a weapon. You're not the person who decides who gets killed and who doesn't. You're just following orders._

She felt guilty. She absolved him of the fault he had.

"You know the problem with young people? They don't know what war is for anymore."

"Is war for anything other than satisfying greed?"

"You say that because all you know is peace," Le Creuset sneered at the fuming girl. "You don't know how beautiful war can be. War is an…"

"How can anything that causes so many deaths be beautiful?"

"An artist," Le Creuset continued, as if Cagalli never said anything. "War paints a beautiful picture that no one will ever forget. A canvas smeared in blood and immortalized by the pages of history. War is a beautiful, fascinating thing."

His mask glimmered under the moonlight, the shadows of one side of his face darkening against the white glow.

"I'm helping the great artist come up with a masterpiece for this part of history. Isn't that a wonderful contribution? And it won't just last for a generation. It'll last forever. Never forgotten. Isn't that thrilling?"

"You're mad," she muttered.

"I heard that," the old lieutenant grinned. "That's the problem with young people. They don't appreciate it anymore. Most of the army today's new blood—they never saw the great conquests I saw in Patrick's day."

Cagalli was slightly surprised. "So you're on a first name basis?"

"We were childhood friends! I grew up idolizing him. As a cadet in military school, I marveled at how Patrick took control of the entire Northern frontier of the country and how he beat everyone to a bloody pulp. When I was 16, I graduated, was assigned ensign, and set out to capture the last of the Copernican states to fall, Junius."

A few years before Athrun was born, Patrick Zala, Zaft's then young king and the army's commander, set out to conquer cities up north that were then part of Logos' territory.

"Junius was one of Logos' few wheat baskets. It was their primary source for food. Of course they didn't give it up easily. But we won."

"So that's why Logos had been waging war with Zaft for years," Cagalli replied. "They're taking back what was theirs to begin with."

"Theirs? They lost. It's ours now."

"What kind of twisted mind thinks that?"

"Everyone in Zaft twenty years ago. We were heroes when we came home to the capital. It proved what Zaft had been for the last half century—a conqueror. Something with power. Something to be feared. It meant more security. It meant prestige. It meant glory."

Her fists shook under his enigmatic stare.

"The glory of war. It defines us—the descendants of the original forefathers of Aprilius. When you pass by the streets and see the conquered shiver at the sight of your shadow… the feeling is just… amazing. It makes you feel like a god among men."

His smile arched sharply to his chin and pulled back tightly his cheeks—the skin on them so tense the blood was drained. It reminded her of the jester in a deck of cards who owned the gameplan that can never be deciphered until he lets it out himself.

"You've never tasted it. You'll never know what it is."

But she would not be taken aback anymore. Her face was still flushed in anger. Le Creuset found this amusing.

"If you find my sentiments so disturbing, don't worry. Nowadays, not everyone thinks the same way I do. Actually, we all fight for different reasons. Some people think of their families at home when they fight, some people dedicate their battles to those who have died…"

He seemed to have warped back to his regular, less sinister grin.

"Yet some people are in this whole thing just because the king told them to. You can see the divide, actually. The older soldiers fight because they know this Crusade is for the good of the country. The younger soldiers fight because_ the king_ said it was for the good of the country."

She recalled what Shinn told him earlier in the night. _A journey with a higher purpose… the only way to have real peace._

"What I told you," Le Creuset continued. "A war to end all wars… to unite the world… and blah, blah, blah. Wars end when one king has become triumphant over everyone else and only that one king rules the world, simply because, well, who would wage wars against him? You know the problem with that theory, right?"

"Rebellion."

"Which we have been trying to solve for centuries. It's a vicious, tiring, irritating pest. A better world… that's what Patrick called it. And strangely enough, many people bought it. Especially the young ones. The mantra they live and die by is something they barely understand."

Le Creuset shook his head. For the first time, Cagalli felt she was sure what he was feeling.

Pity.

"And unfortunately for your friend Athrun, he's one of them."

+o+

"Patrick, he's only seven and you're already forcing him to learn to use a sword?"

"I was eight when I first had my swordsmanship lessons. And I did not force him. He insisted on being trained as early as now."

That afternoon of Athrun's seventh birthday was one of the few afternoons Lenore ever let herself look angry. No matter how angry she was, she often made it a point to be the more composed end of the conversation. That day was different.

"What if he gets hurt?"

"That's part of the training."

"He might even kill himself and you still think that's normal?"

"It's part of being Zaft's prince and being the heir to my Commandership. Eventually, it'll be his task to lead the army in protecting the country, and in every battle there will be the possibility that he'll come home in a burial urn. You have to accept that."

Her head hanging on her shoulders, Lenore sank to the first seat she found. Her round green eyes, like shards of precious stones framed by the starch-white canvass of her skin, watched her husband, who looked at her longingly.

"Please understand."

His voice was so used to being stern that in times that it was this tender, it sounded awkward. Only to Lenore would he show this side of him—not to his men, not to his closest friends, not even to his son.

Zaft's king knelt before his wife and wiped the tears from her eyes. "Please understand. Athrun can't see you crying like this. It'll discourage him. He'll be confused."

"I know… but it's just that… Why does it have to be so soon?"

"Because we never know when I'll die. If and when that happens, he needs to be ready."

Lenore begged him not to talk about such things, but he put his fingers on her lips to silence her.

"Before we came, Junius only knew peace. You and I were raised differently—you, from a blissful village in the north, and I from the warlike city of the West. You were taught that nothing could ever be solved by blood. My country thrives in swimming in the blood of the conquered. Logos believes in peace. Zaft believes in war. Not even I can change that."

Lenore wouldn't stop crying.

"Athrun is Zaft's prince. Junius is part of Zaft now. We cannot break tradition. Both of them must live by the sword."

"Why?" she finally burst, the tears flowing from her eyes.

"Because that is who we are."

She lowered her head—it seemed like she didn't want to hear anymore of this. Gently as he could, he raised her head to face him.

"We have made war our business since the beginnings of our city. The bounty our country has is the fruit of that war. Everything we have, in one way or another… we owe it to the battles we have won and the cities we have conquered. Every city takes on individual roles that when put together produce better lives for their people than they could if they scrambled to do so as independent states. War isn't so bad. It just has to be won by the right people. "

_The right people_, Lenore thought. The same men who killed the thin frontline of Junian soldiers that day Junius was conquered. The same men whose top officers, despite their code of honor, each raped one of her sisters and killed them afterwards.

And now she was married to the very one who killed her father.

"If it weren't for the war I waged in Junius, I would have never met you, and we would have never had Athrun. You and Athrun are war's gifts to me."

He kissed her, the same way he did in all these eight years they were married. The passion, the warmth, the sense of belongingness in his arms had always been there. But that day, he whispered something different.

"_You_ are my prize for winning the war in Junius…"

In Zaft, the woman in a marriage is nothing more than a prize. When the man is courting her, he must do everything to please her—women fall for men who make them feel like queens. For all the hardship and all the days they subject themselves to the whims of a woman, the man is rewarded with the woman's hand in marriage. The woman is the man's prize, and _as man and_ _wife_, the woman is subject to the man's every single whim.

But she had accepted this. Patrick grew up with this all his life; she couldn't change him. Besides, Patrick loved her, and that was all that mattered. It would be impossible to change him. What she could not accept was that Athrun was going to be raised in the same way.

To Patrick's surprise, she broke the kiss. It had never happened before. Patrick moved his gaze to the door, where Athrun stood with his mouth wide open, his eyes beady as ever.

Quickly, Lenore came to her son's side, saying, "Athrun, do not do what Mother and Father did until you're old enough to have a girlfriend. Alright?"

Athrun nodded weakly. "If that's what boyfriends and girlfriends do to each other, I don't ever want to have a girlfriend."

The boy sped off before Lenore could say another word. "Something tells me Athrun will grow to be very different from the other boys in this city," she giggled, recalling how boys his age were already crushing on girls. Her mood had changed the instant Athrun came in.

"Yes, and at this rate, he'll grow up to be a different king."

Since Athrun's toddler years, Patrick had been crushing rebellions left and right, and most of the time, he left Lenore to raise Athrun within the walls of Zaft's capital. It was Lenore who laid out how the boy would be raised, not Zaft's king.

A woman raised as a foreigner nurtured who would be Zaft's next king.

"A different king? What's so wrong about that?" Lenore said, leaving the room.

+o+

"Damn, I should really teach myself to stay awake when out in the open like this. I always fall asleep."

The smell of something burning woke Cagalli up. She looked to the east, where base camp was located. It was dark—the bonfire had been put out hours ago.

"And that does not smell like burning wood. Wait, are those candles?"

Her feet led her to where the scent came from—a large cave smoothed by the sea and sticking out of the sand. Something inside glowed brightly against the consuming darkness. Cautiously, she made her way in.

The moment she stepped inside, she felt the heat shoot up her foot. Thousands of candles, stood on every inch of the cave's flooring—some even sticking out of protruding rocks on the cave's walls. The cave's watery walls reflected the candles' light, making it brighter. It hurt her eyes.

A small path good for one person was made through the sea of candles. It led straight to an open space, lit by the moonlight gushing through a hole on the cave's ceiling. The cave glowed in two shades—the harsh, golden glow of thousands of candles masking the cool blue luster of the moon. The cave's moonlit center seemed like a refuge from the unearthly heat.

Someone was standing there, the moon's rays raining on his back. The man setting up the candles knelt every time he put down one and stood silent for a while before he put down another, as if to pray. She took wary steps towards him. As she got closer, she recognized him.

"Is this for everyone who died?"

The man answered, "Yes."

"Why so many? Did you kill them all?"

"Yes."

The cave was big enough to house a small village.

"This is what you wanted, right? For me to admit this was all my fault. Because it was me who sent them out."

"You still don't get it."

"It's you who doesn't. These men don't just fight because I tell them to. We all fight for different reasons. If they didn't want to join this war, they could resign from the army and live in peace for the rest of their days—we forced no one."

"What do you call conquering, then?"

"We always gave them the choice. They could have always kept their lives by surrendering. You know me, Cagalli. I never wanted to kill anyone. But they chose to die by my sword. They chose to die, I didn't force anyone!"

Covered in the stinging light from the candles around her, her eyes seemed to burn, two small but furious candles among many of their kind, just as small and just as furious, that when put together could consume him alive.

"You just don't get it."

She was his conscience. She reminded him of the things he tried desperately not to think of. From the glow of furious candles, she stepped into the soft light of the moon. Shaking, Athrun stepped back.

"Don't run away from it. You can't keep doing that. The more you run away, the more people will be killed."

In cold sweat, his back hit the wall. The rough edges pricked the scar on his back.

"At least these people believed in what they died for. Whether they died for tradition, or their forefathers, for their comrades, for their families or for their king. Even dying for you might be a worthy cause. Why you do the things you do… who am I to judge you for that? The point is they died for something they thought was right."

The strength having left him, he sank to his bottom, covering his head. "Enough of this," he muttered.

"At least they believed in what they died for. Can you say the same for yourself?"

He didn't know how long he sat there, praying for Cagalli to leave. He heard her advance towards him and put her hand inside the knapsack slung to his shoulder. She was searching for something. He didn't even bother asking her what she was looking for. Finally, he felt her take something out of his bag. He sighed in relief.

When Cagalli knelt beside him again, the slight contact made him shiver.

"Why are you scared of me? I want to help you."

He felt her lean closer to him, her breath in his ear.

"We are who we choose to be. We believe in what we choose to believe in. I have no right to tell you what to believe in."

She looked straight into his eyes. He could see himself reflected in hers—the image of a scared wet dog wanting his master to come and lead him back home.

"Listen to me. If all you're life the only thing your father taught you is how to follow his orders, you'll never be a good king."

He could barely breathe. He wasn't sick, but he felt feverish. The heat from the candles was getting to his head. She cupped both sides of his head in her hands. For a moment, the shaking stopped. Breathing became easier.

"No one has the right to tell you what to believe in. Not your father, not tradition, not even Zaft itself. You have to decide for that yourself."

She stood up.

"Athrun, let go."

He could hear his own heart, beating madly, a caged beast wanting to burst out taking away his life. His hand clasped her arm firmly. It hurt Cagalli, but she could feel his hand shaking.

"You've come up with your own decisions more than once. You can do it this time, too."

She left. When her footsteps faded, he raised his head. She was gone. That moment, he knew exactly what he wanted.

"I don't want to hurt her."

That moment, he had stopped shaking.

+o+

Dawn's breath was refreshing. The world's source of warmth lazily stretched its fingers—the day was bound to be calm. Out of the hellish cave of candles, Athrun stretched his stiffened muscles. He yawned, thinking he should catch an hour more of sleep before they set out.

Then he found Cagalli, hunched on the sea shore a few feet away. A speck of light flickered under her hands, only to die out, and she would light it again. When he came closer, he recognized it was a candle.

"Cagalli what are you doing?"

"Candles are supposed to guide dead souls to where they're meant to go, right?"

"In Zaft tradition, yes."

There was a time in the year when all of Zaft lit candles at their front doors for the souls of the departed to find their eternal homes. Athrun had made it a habit to do a similar ritual after every battle, a kind of personal offering to the dead.

"Well, this candle's for you."

"What? Don't kill me just yet!"

"No, silly. It's to guide you in deciding for yourself."

The candle, barely longer than the width of her palm, flickered and died.

"Don't just stand there! How did you light all those candles in this wind?"

"This was your idea. You're asking me for help?"

"This is to help you!"

"You're asking me to help you help me?"

"You should help yourself, too. You have to do your part. Now tell me how you got all those candles lit." Annoyed, Cagalli scowled, "What's funny?"

"Don't ask, you'll just get angrier," Athrun pushed out, taking the candle from the girl. "The wind isn't as strong in the cave. Out here, it's definitely harder to light a candle. But…"

He molded out a mound of sand a little taller than the candle and dug a hole inside. He popped the candle into the hole.

"Now light it. The wind won't get in the way."

Its tiny head swaying in the narrow space made for it, the candle glowed softly amidst the sun, like a tiny firefly fluttering beside a grand bonfire, small yet distinct.

"Nice," Cagalli whispered in awe. Something so small could make her so happy. It baffled Athrun.

"You know, I've thought about the things you said. This Crusade… it's wrong. What Zaft's been doing for the last half century… that's wrong, too."

Her bangs covered most of her face. The reaction he could not tell.

"Originally, I set out in this Crusade because my father told me too. A better world, a war that brings peace.. I didn't understand that. As I went on with this Crusade, I learned more about it. First a friend helped me understand why my father told me to set out, and now I understand why he never told me what was wrong with it."

He recalled Kira, the "traveler" he met in Heliopolis. "It would have confused me. I guess he thought I believed in my king so much I'd go crazy if I found out his theory of a better world was just a big lie. And that traveler was right. Back then, I might have even killed him for speaking ill of the king. So I fought for that reason, until another traveler told me I was fighting for the wrong thing."

Cagalli raised her head. Dawn shrouded her in a faint mist, an unearthly light that covered everyone in a glow relieving the world of the harsh, cold night. She smiled, only slightly, but for some reason, a reason he could not understand, he felt happy.

But understanding a little was enough for now. Understanding things bit by bit, learning and unlearning the things he thought were right before was best done slowly but surely.

"When we get back to Zaft, I'll tell the king about the things you said."

Before his mother died, she mouthed the words, "Change Zaft for me." Ever since, Athrun recalled everything her mother complained about: the rift between the rich and the poor, the way the people blindly followed the king as a god, how Patrick, and eventually Athrun, was always away fighting wars. His mother's last wish made Athrun remove the special privileges nobles enjoyed in the army. His mother's influence led him to speak of himself not as a god, but as a servant to his people, contrary to what Zaft has been made to believe for most of its existence. The capital's conservative ministry was far from happy, but because these garnered the king's approval and because they were endorsed by the very popular Prince Athrun, all they could do was talk behind his back.

But never did Athrun do anything contrary to what his father wished. His father's scheming was the infallible formula; everything he did, every decision he made always turned out to be the right ones.

Or so it seemed. Killing off hostile factions mercilessly and humiliating them to serve as the example not to be followed but to be condemned—the sheer brutality of his father's ways, his country's tradition of bloodshed… sometimes, it made his stomach spin.

But brutal as they were, they served their purpose. Every plan the king ever conceived, as far as Athrun knew, turned out the way he predicted—_always_ for the good of Zaft. He was always right. And for Athrun, there can only be one "right". All his life, he believed it was what his father laid out for him and the world.

"I feared making mistakes. So I always played it safe. Stay on the tried and tested path the people before me walked. Conquer. That's what Zaft's been doing for most of its existence, and it is what it is today because of it."

So when his father ordered him to launch his own war—something his mother would have scorned—he didn't bother arguing.

"I guess I've stayed on the easy path long enough."

Now it was different. The most important lesson he got from all of this is to come up with his own decisions.

And fight for them.

"That's a great start. Come on, you look beat. Have you slept?"

It was the same caring Cagalli. Gone will be the Cagalli who haunts him as his conscience, at least until the occasion calls for her presence again. But for now, Cagalli was a friend.

_Or maybe a little more than a friend,_ Athrun added as an afterthought. He was exhausted, but he had a big smile on his face. Just looking at her made his heart skip. It was his first time feeling this way. He breathed deeply. With the earthy scent of morning dew drying up in the sun's growing heat, the scent of white lilies was refreshing.

+o+

"Orb isn't far away from here. I'm sure the message will get here in... Here it is!"

The mood around her made her feel even more thrilled to see Kira's reply. The message was strangely short, though.

_Yes. Take care. _

_Kira_

She was expecting a much longer letter reminding her to be careful of strangers and opened, possibly drugged beverages, along with other things women are reminded of when they travel alone. Kira was always the worrywart, and her father was a lot worse.

"Which reminds me, why hasn't Father written anything to me?"

"Uhm, maybe he's busy?"

"Nicol, stop popping out of nowhere!"

_Damn, she must be wondering why the messages are so short_, Nicol scolded himself mentally. _I shouldn't have forgotten to mention her father!_

"Haro's excited today," Cagalli eyed Haro, who would not stay put on her outstretched arm. It seemed really happy.

"Nico..."

Right before Haro could say Nicol's name, Athrun shooed it away. The bird jumped to flight, one of the many specks dotting the sky that morning.

"What did you do that for?" Cagalli snapped.

"Sorry, was that your bird?"

"Obviously," Cagalli said, rather annoyed.

"Sorry, I thought it was going to bite you so I scared it away. We leave for the capital by noon today. You might want to pack up. It's going to be a long trip."

Cagalli nodded. Nicol sighed in relief. _Good. She has no idea._

"Wait."

Athrun stopped.

"How did you find out I was coming with you? I haven't told anyone."

His heart skipped a beat.

"Never mind. I guess you're really good at guessing what people will do next. But next time, don't assume things too much. You might be wrong."

A small wave crept on the seashore, clobbering at the small mound Athrun made. A tiny candle didn't stand a chance. Athrun's guiding light sank to the seafloor, the light permanently leaving it.

ooooo

And just in case you did _not_ get that last scene, Nicol isn't under any of the divisions. He's an archer, remember?! And there's a separate battalion for them. Guess who commands them, and there you'll have the BIGGEST revelation in this fic so far. Still don't get it? PM or review me. But I prefer reviews. And while you're at it, tell me what you think about this chap. See ya people


	29. The White City

Hello, world. I swore to myself that this chapter would be out before the year ends, so finally, here it is. This is to thank everyone who still found this story despite my one-year absence, and to people who still bothered to check this story (meaning you) despite this author's many unannounced hiatuses. I won't make the wait any longer, so here goes.

Disclaimer: The author of this fic does not own gundam seed/destiny, or its characters, because if I claimed I did, would delete my story—wouldn't it?—and the copyright people will sue me. Any similarities from other fics are purely coincidental, and so are any allusions to real events, places and people.

ooooo

Chapter 27: The White City

Founded at the site of its current capital city, Aprilius, Zaft's history was an illustrious array of battle and conquest through which the Western superpower had gained its expansive territory, covering a fourth of the known world. It was believed that the dawn of man began in the East, where the first signs of human settlement resided, signs of evolution from the primordial to the modern man. Probably due to a then growing scarcity of wild foodstuffs, a big chunk of the human population migrated to other parts of the world, leaving a smaller percentage in the East that was to become the race that founded Orb. A millennium ago, the West was new land; it was virtually uninhabited, since few groups knew it existed, and even those who found out would not risk the perilous journey to the other side of the world.

Most of them, anyway. One race took the giant leap to the West, founding a small farming community in the opulent land. Naturally gifted with assiduousness and the coveted green thumb, these farmers were able to develop the wild, uncultivated patches of land they lived on, harnessing the bounty its soil was overflowing with. This was a time when the techniques of agriculture were yet to be polished, and most of the other nearby communities in the arid desert of the South suffered from starvation. These people knew not how to enrich the land, and wild berry picking—the traditional way of living—would not feed the communities that they have built. They did, however, have huge rock deposits fit for building houses. With these resources began the trading practices of the West and South, and this was how Aprilius slowly monopolized trading, acquiring enough material to build strong walls in the once meek farming community, that in time grew into a booming, rising city. By the time it was an established city-state, smaller communities started to settle on the unclaimed lands bounding Aprilius, building cities of their own. Still, the South patronized aprilius in trade, and even their neighboring competitors looked to them for some of their needs.

A few centuries later, gold began to replace bartered goods, and in less than a hundred years, Aprilius was able to acquire so much wealth, it didn't know what to do with it. They had provided themselves with everything they needed, and they did not want to trouble their lives with useless flamboyance and shiny, sparkly gemstones. Eventually, the elders of the community convened that the best way to spend what they had earned was to invest it in something so that they could earn more. The elders picked out the people's best fighters and let these men attack small neighboring communities. Seeing that the attack was successful, the elders picked out the best fighter in the troop, and this man they crowned as Zaft's first king. Since that year, Zaft had set out to conquer all nearby communities in the West, beginning its long, bloody history of acquisition across the Western landscape.

Becoming the sole sovereign of the West did not just take overnight. It took them centuries, dozens of kings and perhaps millions of men to gain the land they now occupy. Even more troublesome were the constant uprisings set by newly occupied provinces, all fighting to get back the right to rule themselves. Some were successful, but in the end, it seemed that Zaft would come again to reclaim their land, and triumphantly did so. For this reason and for a number of other adversaries who wanted to shave off a part of their territory, Zaft had grown into a powerful military nation, defended by an epic army and led by a line of great warriors they hailed as kings.

+o+

"When I grow up, I want to be just like that."

"Like what?"

"The kings. Patrick, don't you ever dream of it?"

Ten-year-old Patrick simply shrugged. His friend, five years his junior, shook his head in dismay.

"Here you are, the next king of Zaft. And here I am, more eager than you are to conquer the world. What is wrong with you?"

"If you are so eager, my friend, then," Patrick drew his newly-brandished sword, stark white in the night sky, "take that right from me."

Beaming, Patrick's friend drew out his own blade. Minutes of clashing steel later, they were both out of breath.

"I swear I won't let you beat me again."

"What are you saying?" Patrick grunted. "It was a draw."

His friend got up right before Patrick could offer his hand, backing away in jest. "No need to feel sorry for me... I'm not some helpless woma..."

"Gilbert!" Patrick called out after him as he fell down a pit hidden beneath a pile of hay.

+o+

Eleven years later, Patrick, the king of Zaft and Commander of its armed strength, and Gilbert Dullindal, his second-in-command and closest friend, would come to the North to continue their country's great tradition of conquest. It was easy. The North was weak, a country ravaged by famine and disunity—the army was in a fool's hands. They could have conquered all of Logos, but harvest in Zaft was coming. Patrick thought Junius, the wheatbasket, was enough for now. Reluctantly, Gilbert agreed.

After controlling the villages between Junius and Zaft's northern frontier, everything was set for Junius' conquest. Only one person stood in the way—Lenore.

While he was riding on the outskirts of his conquered land, Patrick first met Lenore when he saved her from being mauled by a bear. He had been seeing her ever since, hoping the link between him and the governor's loveliest daughter would serve his army's purposes. She made little effort to charm Patrick, but it was part of her allure. Her quick wit was always entertaining, a muse of intelligence, beauty and all the gifts the gods could conceive. But that was not why Patrick fell in love with her.

"Lenore, there is something I must tell you."

The eve of the fall of Lenore's beloved city. Her heart skipped a beat_._

"I am from Zaft."

Her back against him, Patrick could see her stiffen. Zaft's army had set up camp a few miles from the gates. It could only mean one thing.

"Zaft has come for Junius."

Lenore fell to her knees.

"I know how you feel..." Never had he been at such a loss for words. If her father did not submit, Patrick would have to kill her. He recalled Gilbert's words.

_Patrick, there are a hundred women waiting for you at home_. _There are more to come. Don't lose your mind over one woman!_

Suddenly, Lenore spoke.

"Have you ever been so torn in your life? Because I feel the same way."

She put the words in his mouth. But Patrick didn't get it. The choice should be clear for Lenore.

"Patrick, I should kill you."

To Patrick's surprise, she took out a dagger hidden in her sleeve, glinting slyly in the moonlight. "Now that I have the chance... now that I know that you do not have the heart to kill me."

Horse hooves boomed in the still air. Patrick's identity had been discovered.

In her unmoving state, Lenore whispered, "Go, there's a secret exit in the next room."

He could not believe what he was hearing. Sternly, bitterly, he hissed, "I am a man who is about to kill your father, your sisters, your people... should they refuse to bow down to me and my men. Yet you release me."

She faced him, tears flowing freely on her supple cheeks, each drop beating on Patrick's heart just as her words did.

"And yet you are the man that I love. Now go."

+o+

Over two decades later, the obelisk to commemorate the conquest of Junius still hovered over the land bounding the capital Aprilius, a spear piercing the sky. This and 41 other obelisks symbolized Zaft' provinces and how they were conquered—or, in historians' terms, "were brought to the light"--by Aprilius' forefathers.

Cagalli stood in awe at the foot of the Junian obelisk.

"Amazing, how did you put up these? I can't imagine the manpower..."

Nicol started to explain the history of the pulley while Athrun and the lieutenants oversaw the preparations for the army's entry to the city. Though a mile away, the city of Aprilius was still a commanding site. It encompassed half of the horizon, a white slab of stone radiating an iridescent glow in the noon heat, a light second only to the sun. The battle of white against the rest of the colors of the spectrum—white conquering the rest—was breathtaking.

"The city of light. Marvelous, isn't it."

"Aprilius," Cagalli sighed in amazement. Luna looked at the lady with approval.

"And by the time we're done with you, you wouldn't want to leave."

The battlehorn bellowed, the go signal for all of the army to ride full speed to the city gates. Cagalli could feel the joy overflowing in the men's hearts, the promise of home beyond the horizon finally fulfilled. It pushed her to move faster, the autumn wind filled with the rich scent of golden wheat and flowers in their last days of bloom.

+o+

When they reached the foot of the gates, Luna asked Cagalli to stay by her side.

"The king would love to meet you. You did, after all, save the Prince's life."

Cagalli felt her cheeks flush. Luna grinned at her teasingly, but before she could say anything, a great click resounded in the open field. A wave of cheers and applause crashed into her ears, the earth rumbling as the crowd grew louder and louder with every file of soldiers entering the city. The line grew shorter and shorter before her, until it was her time.

"Hesitant now? Why?"

The roar of the crowd, the rain of roses from the terraces of homes and from atop the city gates, children squeezing through every gap in the line of guards barricading the crowd—she had never seen anything like it.

_Orb never gave me a hero's welcome like this_, Cagalli thought.

"Well dive in!" Luna gave her a playful shove. "The crowd's waiting."

With that first step, the world she had known only in books and paintings had become a reality. Lining the adobe-plated earth they marched on were buildings all at least three floors high, green earth sprawled before each one, willows and oaks swaying like the hands of children waving at friends who have come home from the war. Their leaves were still a lush green, donning the city with a cool contrast to the white walls and the red paths.

Gabled roofs topped many homes, mimicking the tympanum of government buildings and towers scattered across the city. The homes were simple, perhaps as austere as their owners, but the sheer brightness of their white walls captivated her more than the shiny gem houses in Heliopolis.

They reached an arched tunnel. Luna said it led to the royal palace. For a while, Cagalli was thankful to be relieved of the bright light.

"Here we are," Luna nudged Cagalli, who was getting exhausted. "The government complex."

Many offices were found elsewhere in the city, but the government complex housed the most important ones—the ministry of defense, the museum of the country's most valuable riches, and the military school. It was like venturing into another world altogether. Cagalli found herself in a great plaza coated in white stone, surrounded by mammoth structures standing on columns each at least five feet wide. The columns towered over most houses surrounding the area, marble citadels kissing the sun. Carved on the tympanums of the government buildings were periods in Zaft's history, the marble reliefs perfectly smooth.

Across the plaza was another tunnel. Strangely, it was a simple tunnel—no carvings of great conquests, no busts to honor kings and princes, only stone browned and weathered by time. The inside was no different.

"Strange. How out of place in such a grand part of the city," Cagalli mumbled.

" This is what we call 'the way of the kings'," Luna said.

"This?"

"You'll soon find out."

Beyond the tunnel, thunderous rounds of applause awaited them. Towering over all the guests was a giant oak tree, the shadows of its leaves rustling over the path on which it stood. Behind it stood a long flight of marble stairs that led to the gates of the royal palace.

No doubt, the palace was the most awe-inspiring structure in the city. Fourteen towers circled its vestibule domed by a smooth layer of marble, the towers topped by cone-shaped roofs of the same material. Every inch of the palace was smoothed like glass—it reflected the grandiose assembly before it like a giant white mirror. The grass around it seemed moist, the blades of grass glistening under the sun. The wind blew softly, rose petals falling with golden oak leaves.

All around her, the brightness of the walls ruled—over the green grass, the red and yellow of falling wilted leaves, the rugged barks of trees, the faces of the people gleaming with pride. Everything seemed so much brighter in the white city.

Slowly, Cagalli heard the great oak door creak open. It made her wonder how many men were needed to open it. She peeked through the flanks of soldiers, only to find out all it needed was one. The man's hair was gray with age, but Cagalli was too far away to see his face.

Behind her, Meyrin asked, "Why doesn't the king just ask his guards to open the doors for him?"

"To live up to his reputation, of course," Luna answered, slightly annoyed.

Truly it was the king, his crown perfectly propped on his head, his scepter in his right hand and his other hand freely resting on the arm of a chair one of his servants got for him. _That man must be my father's age, _Cagalli thought_. How can he possibly open those doors_?

Suddenly, the white walls shook with the crowd's excitement. Zaft's battlehorn echoed from a distance, signaling the entry of its prince.

As the nobles began to line up along the red carpet to the palace, a patch of pink hair caught Cagalli's attention. Never, _never_, in Cagalli's wildest dreams did she think she would find _her _here. Without thinking, Cagalli sprung to a dash.

+o+

"Lacus, Lacus!" Cagalli called out. She finally stopped, realizing she had lost Lacus.

_What could she possibly be doing here?_ Cagalli asked herself, pacing across the white city. If Lacus was here, did that mean Kira was here, too? Was Kira really that worried about her? But why bring Lacus along?

_Besides, he didn't sound so worried in the letter, _Cagalli assured herself. _But still, why do I feel so..._

With that, she heard the spark of a lamp post coming to life. The sun had already set and night was setting in fast. She had wandered into one of those less frequented parts of the city in her search for her songstress friend, and now she had no idea how to find her way back.

_Maybe there's a sign pointing the way to the main gate, at least,_ Cagalli thought. There were none.

After an hour of being lost, she gave up, sinking to a bench. "Of all the things this city would not have..."

"There are things this city does not have? I am quite surprised."

Cagalli looked up to find a man, probably in his late forties, dressed in a plain white shirt, brown trousers and black shoes. _A noble? No_, _all of the nobles were dolled up today. Probably someone who works in one of the offices. Or a businessman? An artist? A teacher?_

"I assume you are trying to guess my trade," the man mused.

"I know," Cagalli bolted up, putting her hand on her hips as she stood. "A soldier."

"My, such keenness," the man exclaimed. "How did you know?"

"Soldiers have a certain snap when they walk. I've been with them long enough to recognize that."

The man suddenly laughed.

"I see Lady Cagalli is as smart as she is lovely."

"You know me?" Cagalli asked, surprised.

"Know you? Everyone knows you! You're famous!"

+o+

Rose petals were strewn in every nook and cranny of the adobe paths.

"So many..." Cagalli wondered.

"Yes, all summer they had been saving up for the prince's return."

Cagalli smiled. The stories were true. Athrun was a prince loved by the people.

The man had led Cagalli to a gathering of the Aprilians in the city's common plaza, an expanse of adobe stone where most announcements to the people were made. That night, the people were witnessing a play. The man told Cagalli the play was about the events of the Crusade. Two seats were vacant up front.

"Aren't these reserved?" Cagalli asked."The view is good, fitting a high-paying noble."

"These shows are for free, my Lady," the man said, leading Cagalli through the crowd in the dimly lit square. _The man's eyesight is amazing for his age, _she thought.

The red armor and the hill fortress—it was certainly the battle of Lunius.

_Definitely in Lunius_, Cagalli thought. The actor, wearing a mask resembling Athrun's helmet, fell with an arrow stuck to his chest. The crowd boomed with shrieks and howls. A jester, the play's narrator, entered the scene.

_Yes it is true, he almost died_

_but never fear, for by his side_

_was the lady to save the day_

_so that our prince could come home safe._

From the far end of the plaza was the sound of rolling trolley wheels driven by an actor acting out the part of a Zaft soldier. Another actress came rushing to the stage, carrying a syringe.

Kneeing beside the actor playing the Commander, the actress held up the syringe, saying, "If I fail, you can have me beheaded!"

Cagalli heard the whole crowd gasp. People murmured left and right.

"Is that true? Did she really say that?"

"The jester said the whole account was true."

"An exaggeration? Please, she's only a doctor, and a foreign one at that!"

"Heliopolis is part of Zaft now. She's no longer foreign."

"Some say she isn't even from Heliopolis."

"Then from where?"

At the end of the play, the man spoke, "Lady Cagalli, it seems that last line upstaged everything else, did it not?"

Though Cagalli was not sure if anyone paid attention to the end of the play, the crowd rewarded the actors with much applause. The thespians bowed and removed their masks.

The actress was the same woman she saw earlier.

"Lacus?" she whispered, dumbfound.

Waving flying kisses at the crowd, the actress said, "Ladies and Gents, I thank you for the applause. But such honor is not for me when the true star of the story is here tonight!"

The crowd roared with applause again. Her movements light, she approached Cagalli and graciously, like a true noblewoman, offered her hand.

"Would you grace us with a few words, my Lady?" the actress chirped. Cagalli looked helplessly to where the man was seated, only to find the seat empty.

_Alright, Cagalli, you have done speeches many times in Orb. This is no different,_ she thought, walking slowly on the aisle. Hundreds of nameless eyes bore on her back, watching every time her body twitched.

_Breathe in, breathe out._

All she had to do was remember what her brother taught her. Then she was ready.

"All I really have to say is," she started, her voice clear and strong, "thank you."

"All of my life, the people around me defined who I was. A father revered by all, a brother who broke boundaries in everything he did... all I was back home was my father's daughter and my brother's sister."

Orb's women were allowed to participate in public affairs, and there had been quite a few great women in its history. But Kira and King Uzumi did not want Cagalli involved in the troubles of politics and, heaven forbid, the spoils of war. She was much too precious to them. This she understood, but sometimes...

"That fulfillment of truly being able to make a difference has always eluded me. I always felt all my actions were tokenistic, piecemeal solutions—a little girl's efforts to make her life meaningful."

That was all she was in Orb, a little girl. A palace wallflower, a pretty face whose only true duty is to marry for the sake of peace. A little girl who couldn't decide—no, who wasn't allowed to decide—for herself.

But that wasn't true. She was able to serve Orb as its spy to a then enemy country. She was able to save hundreds of dying soldiers. She was able to correct one man's misguided sense of right and wrong—something that might save thousands of lives in the long run.

In Zaft.

"Yes, in Zaft, I have actually found a place where my actions actually matter."

She paused, her mind reeling back to her homeland. Orb, with its green fields and cottages, the homes built of cedar wood and the smell of spring. Her father and brother, her people...

"I love home. And that shall always be my home. But I feel there is something here in Zaft that I am meant to do, something very important. And until that task is done, I shall stay."

The crowd had fallen silent. Cagalli had no idea what they made out of it.

"Well everyone, I've said all I had to say. Thank you and enjoy the rest of the night."

As Cagalli slipped out of the stage, she heard the crowd's rumbling applause again. People were cheering for more, children calling out her name.

The man who had led her to the play came up from behind. "I did not know Lady Cagalli was such an eloquent speaker."

"I had to come up with that in less than a minute," Cagalli said with relief.

"A good speech nonetheless. So, my Lady, would you care to take a walk with me?"

He was amiable, easy to talk to. His smile was barely an arch in his face, a stern air always about him, but it was the kind that summoned respect, not fear. His movements were controlled and precise, steps fluid as they landed on the grainy paths.

They ended up talking about many things: the city, places Cagalli might want to see, people she might want to meet. Cagalli was surprised at how adept the man was with everything about Zaft—he even knew the latest fashion trends.

"You might think Aprilians do not give a damn about fashion, but the women here go crazy when a new clothing line comes up. Especially the nobles."

"Why?"

"No one wants to be outdone by anyone in front of the prince."

Cagalli huffed. This was not surprising.

"Speaking of which," the man started to say, his forehead crinkled, "How does he fare?"

Her mind having flown off elsewhere, the question pulled her back. "Against?"

"The rest of your suitors."

Cagalli felt her jaw drop. "Buuut... ah, he's not even one of them!"

The man frowned in jest.

"Well, they say he took no interest in women," Cagalli said defensively.

"Well, all right." For the first time, the man had a big grin on his face.

Cagalli snarled, "How annoying."

"How about we put it this way? In the very _remote_ chance that he does plan to court you, how will he fare among the rest?"

Leaning on a nearby lamp post, she mused, "Well, he's a good man."

"Good?"

_Fine, you wish a comparison, _Cagalli thought. "He's better than most suitors I've had."

"Better... than most?"

"Argh, what do you want me to say?"

"The prince is a very competitive man. That won't suffice."

"Fine. He's the best man I've ever met. Happy?"

Cagalli stomped off, thinking the lopsided grin meant the man was satisfied.

"Does that make him one of your options?"

"I already told you there is nothing between us!"

"Ah, but _you _are an option for him."

_Ludicrous_, Cagalli thought. "Athrun and I are just friends."

"The very fact that you _are _friends means something," the man continued. "No woman, except for his mother, has ever stepped into his inner circle."

"Just because I'm his first girl friend doesn't mean I'll become his wife!"

The man shook his head. "Ah, you do not know how the prince thinks."

"And you do?"

"Of course. I've known him all his life."

Everything was still. The moon had risen over the city, shedding bluish silver light on its white walls. High over the homes, the monuments and the palace, the walls let off a mild, unearthly glow, shrouding all of the city, dancing with the golden glow of the lamp posts—two gentle lights conquering the black night.

"The city of light," Cagalli recalled. "The city where the light never leaves."

She found herself in the plain brown tunnel, the one called the "way of the kings." Not made of the glowing stone the rest of the city was, it remained dull while everything around it glowed.

The man explained, "The way of the kings has stood here since the first plow struck this land. The days of our forefathers. A millennium after, it still stands. Do you know what it symbolizes, Cagalli?"

Compared to the light surrounding it, the "way of the kings" was a stark black.

"The dark tunnel leading to the great light," Cagalli whispered.

"The dark tunnel through which all Zaft kings must pass. A time of confusion and hopelessness in the midst of this violent, murderous world. A time when he might find himself... lost."

Beyond the tunnel was the soft light of the city—the palace, the seat of power, the symbol of Zaft's history, its conquests, the kings' proud lineage.

"But no matter how dark that path is, the king will find the light, the same way all those before him did."

_The same way, _Cagalli thought.

"This tunnel only has one path. In the same way, there is only one path for the king."

His shoes clicked against the aged stone of the tunnel as he made his way to the royal palace.

"And what exactly is that path?"

The man stopped a few steps into the tunnel. He remembered having a similar conversation over twenty years ago.

"_Why do you conquer? Zaft already has so much, so much it might not be able to handle it anymore."_

"Cagalli, when you have the world at your feet, what do you do with it?"

The girl's eyes narrowed.

"What would you do with an army of epic proportions and a treasury bursting with gold? What do you do with power to rival the gods'?"

Her heart suddenly felt like fire. This was the same kind of thinking that brought suffering to so many people—the same one that made Athrun's life a living hell.

"What do you do with a man who can crush an entire army with one swipe of his sword? You invest on them, of course."

"Invest?" Cagalli said bitterly.

"Yes. You train them, hone their natural talents and make sure they get enough practice so they do not lose those gifts."

"So that's all these wars have been from the beginning? All those men died because you wanted your soldiers to practice?"

"Yes. Practice is very important."

"Bastard!"

The man just smiled a light, easy smile. Cagalli thought it was an insult to every man who died in the South—no, everyone who died in all the wars Zaft fought since the dawn of its history.

"You call me a bastard but my people call me a hero. Who should I listen to?"

"They call you a hero because they don't know the truth."

"They call me a hero because they benefit from the wars. How do you think these walls were built? Our city the wealthiest of all? It is all because of many conquests."

"At the cost of thousands of other cities."

"Which benefited in return. Look at all our provinces. Isn't it by our leadership that they became prosperous? Those cities were pigsties when we saw them. Look at them now."

"But still," she said, feeling defeated, "your way is not the only way."

"But it is the best way. Why not have the best man in the world rule over all of it? Doesn't that make everyone equal? No one has to suffer a fool's reign while the others rejoice in the kingship of a good man."

He used every promising idea—justice, equality and stewardship. Everything that promised a good future.

"That's what we tell all rebels. The only reason we had not addressed their needs is because we don't know them! If they tell us, they would not have to look to those murderous traitors for a future. When they realize we can provide for them, they stop. Half of the rebellions in Zaft end in amiable reconciliation. The leaders are executed, of course."

"And the other half?"

"Are fools. Fools made to believe in things like the pride of their ancestry or the value of self-rule. In the end, they can't even get up to build a decent fortress by themselves."

The man approached her, offering his hand. _A gesture of chivalry_, Cagalli thought. She shuddered, stepping back.

A soft chuckle from his lips, the man continued, "I knew a woman just like you. The daughter of a city's leader we killed in one of our conquests. She was afraid, shivering, like you are now."

She had just noticed her palms were sweaty. Nonetheless, the man took her hand and held it gently. His stern facade did not fade, but he held her hand like a delicate piece of porcelain.

"But I asked her to give me and my people a chance, and we will prove that we are as great as we claim to be. I promised her that her city is in good hands."

His hands, though rough and hardened by the sword's grip, were warm, like a bonfire in a winter's night. It was a familiar warmth—a flame that did not burn, a shelter to protect her from all enemies.

Gently, the man kissed the lady's hand, just as softly as he held it.

"Wouldn't it be nice if someone like Prince Athrun ruled over all the world? He would make a good king, would he not?"

As if hypnotized by the man's eyes, Cagalli said, "Of course he would."

"Then, why not give him a chance? Why not give Zaft a chance?"

With that, he disappeared into the darkness.

+o+

Up in the palace's highest tower, Athrun was in deep thought in his father's study.

_If I don't tell him now, there won't be any turning back,_ he thought, rubbing his chin. He did not promise Cagalli there would be no war, but for her sake, he had to stop what would a massacre of her people.

_Father isn't going to like what I'm about to tell him._

From a distance, he saw a brown speck grow gradually until a figure of an eagle perched at the window. It was a messenger bird.

_Tori? So Lt. Waltfield sends the intelligence reports here first before he sends them to me. I see my father does not trust even his son._

He wondered if he should open the message right then or if he should wait for the king. He took a seat on the sofa, fingering the message.

"Shall I... or shall I respect my father's privacy?"

Shrugging his shoulders, he unfolded the letter.

+o+

The man Cagalli spoke to was making his way back to the palace when he heard the cry of an eagle. "Tori's back. What news of Orb could Andrew have for me?"

Making a mental note to remind Lt. Waltfield to send all messages to him before sending them to the prince, the man started on the long flight of stairs to his study.

_What could Athrun possibly want to talk about so urgently, _the man asked himself. _Had that girl convinced him already to spare Orb? _

His study was already unlocked._ Athrun's here,_ he thought.

Athrun was facing the window, back in his usual silk shirt and black pants instead of his wartime cheesecloth clothes.

"My king, we set out for Orb tomorrow."

This was something the king was not expecting to hear from his son. "What?"

"You heard me. We attack now."

Never has Athrun named a date for an attack and never has he been so eager to start a war. This did not make sense.

"What brought this on?" asked the king.

Athrun handed him a letter, obviously almost ripped by a very angry reader. He knew Athrun tried very hard to keep an expressionless facade, but the king knew he was ready, yearning to kill.

_Nothing unusual,_ Patrick thought as he read. There may have been parts he would not have told the prince, but nothing would make him _this_ angry. That is, until he got to the last part. It was obviously written much later than the rest, something very urgent.

_Tori was already on his way, but I had to reel him back in, you have to know this immediately. Gilbert Dullindal is here and alive in Orb. _

_So he survived,_ the king thought. The news shocked the king, but he managed to put on a straight face.

"That man should be dead. Is that why you're so angry?"

"Read the rest of the letter."

The king went on. When he finished, he threw the letter to the bonfire.

"You are to speak of this to no one. You're dismissed."

"What about the attack? Are we not to plan it?"

"There will be no attack. Not yet."

"Not yet?" Athrun said in anger and disbelief. "While we sleep, he plots! We let him live long enough to do that?"

"To barge in without a plan is stupid. To go against Dullindal without knowing his motives will be suicide for all your men."

Athrun fell silent.

"We shall wait for Lt. Waltfield and his next message. I don't need to tell him to find out why Dullindal is doing this. As for you..."

He faced the prince, who was rabid with anger. _Give this man a sword now and he will butcher everyone in sight,_ the king thought. _This is why I must make him calm down first. _

"You shall wait until I tell you to move. A rushed response is exactly what Dullindal wants."

As soon as Athrun left, the king sunk to his chair.

_Gilbert, my worst foe, is alive_.

He was a man the king condemned to death five years ago for the death of the queen. _Are you here for your revenge, Gilbert?_

When they were children, they were best friends. As they got older, they grew to have differences, but for the good of their country they became the most feared allies in war.

_Lenore's death changed all that,_ Patrick thought, his fist clenched. By some cruel twist of fate, he lost his wife and his best friend. Now that friend has come back to haunt him.

The spy's message tormented him more.

_He is now Duke Fortune of Logos, the man who has cost us so many men in the hills of the North. Today, he allied himself with Orb. I don't know when, but all of the North's forces will join the East and wage war against Zaft. The man is ambitious, Patrick. _

_They will come for the capital. _

ooooo

Thanks for reading! Happy new year to all :)


	30. The Secret

You know the drill. School. Schedule. Sleepless nights. Hence the late update. But here it is, so i hope everyone's ready for a loooooooong chapter.

Disclaimer: The author of this fic does not own gundam seed/destiny, or its characters, because if I claimed I did, would delete my story—wouldn't it?—and the copyright people will sue me. Any similarities from other fics are purely coincidental, and so are any allusions to real events, places and people.

ooooo

Chap 29: The Secret

Over a decade ago, a woman with her seven-year old son sat happily aboard a push cart carrying hay for horses in Aprilius. Anyone would have mistaken them for peasants, had they not look closely enough.

"Mother, that was the best birthday present ever! Let's go back to the town fiesta next year, please?"

"Sure, Athrun. But don't tell anyone I brought you there," the woman whispered, tipping the boy's straw hat to cover his face while she lifted him off the cart. The cart driver might see.

A voice from behind spoke suddenly, "Not even me, I suppose."

"Your Highness!" The cart driver almost fell to his knees at the sight of the king, donned in a simple white coat. "My greetings to the prince, who turns seven today!"

"Thank you, mister!" the boy burst, shocking the cart driver and his parents.

Massaging his temples, the king asked the cart driver to speak nothing of the incident. Luckily, only a few soldiers roamed the government complex at five in the morning.

But _exactly _because it was five in the morning, Patrick was fuming.

"Patrick," Lenore broke the silence among the three of them as they climbed up the stairs to their son's bedroom. "Athrun really wanted to see the fiesta."

"You could have told me."

"But you would have insisted on the royal guard coming. I wanted to just enjoy the shows, not attract attention."

_Athrun's grown to be quite a talker_, Lenore told him. The wars in Logos have grown fiercer in the last few years with rebellions breaking out one after another in the new provinces. Patrick did try to spend time with his son, but this was the first time Patrick was home for Athrun's birthday.

"Hm, not exactly," Patrick said, kneeling down. "I would have come with you."

"Really? You're rarely home, Father."

"I'm home for now. But as you know, I have to go away soon. So I wish you value every moment I'm here."

"Alright!" the young prince said with glee, breaking away from his mother's hold and clasping his father's hand. "Let's go somewhere, Father! Take me horseback riding again!"

It had been a year since they did had longed for those days, too, while he was away in the war. He could remember the smell of daisies and grass meadows, the smell of his wife's homemade teas back in Junius.

"But for now you must sleep. You have to meet someone at lunchtime."

"Aww, Father! Can't we just go horseback riding?"

"Rest. Bed. Now."

Pouting, Athrun grumbled, "Yes, Father."

With all the strength he could muster, Athrun slammed the door behind him. "Darling, isn't he?" Lenore said, giggling.

"Don't change the subject. Why were you out in peasant clothes? _In the dead of night?_"

"It wasn't the dead of night," Lenore said, her eyebrow arched. "It was a town fiesta. You should go visit one sometime."

"That's not the point. Why in _peasant clothes_? My wife and son without the royal guard? "

"Like your son said, we didn't want to call attention to ourselves."

"And if people found out? They'd think I'd gone mad! Letting my son wear something like that... they'd think I've neglected him!"

"Is there something wrong with peasant clothes?"

"Yes! They're peasant clothes!"

"So does that mean you have a thing against peasants? The foundation of our great city?"

"Don't play word games with me, Lenore," Patrick hissed, taking the next flight of stairs to their room.

"My point, there is nothing wrong with sneaking out every once in a while in peasant clothes. I used to do it all the time."

"That was Junius! Things are different here in the capital."

"Then what's wrong with doing things a little differently?"

She caressed his cheek softly, feeling the wrinkles that have come with aging in the battlefield.

Whenever she did this, Patrick's stern demeanor softened. "The nobles are not going to like this."

"Of course they won't. But that isn't all bad, is it?"

He took her hand in his as they made their way up to their room.

+o+

It was already three in the afternoon when Athrun woke up. First thing he knew, he was starved. But staring at himself in the mirror, he realized there were more important things than his growling stomach.

_Father's arranged with me to meet with someone today, _the boy thought._ I have to look my best. I can't embarrass him. _

He got out in the best coat he could find and headed for the garden, where his parents should be having tea with the guests. On his way, he passed by three boys, two older ones with one boy Athrun's age. They seemed to be having a mock sword fight, using sticks instead of swords.

"And I shall conquer you, Lord Elsman!" said the youngest one, his hair shiny under the sun.

"You make it sound odd, Yzak," said the older boy, who was on all fours, said jokingly.

"Don't give it a double meaning! That was my victory there, you ruined it!"

"Hush, the both of you," said the third boy, clearly the eldest. "We're in the royal household. Yzak, if the prince sees you, he'll be laughing his head off."

"I would? Not really. We're you practicing for a comedy? Very bad acting, I might say."

The two older boys immediately noticed how well-dressed the boy was. _A very high-ranking noble, _they thought. But Yzak couldn't care less.

"You dare mock me. Fine, I challenge you!"

"Uhm, are you sure?" Athrun raised his palms in defense as Yzak waved the stick. Athrun didn't want his coat ruined.

"I am dead sure."

"I don't know, I don't want to discourage you in training or..."

"Discourage? Are you saying you're better than me?"

"I think so. You're not even holding that stick right. You hold it like..."

"Why you..."

"Hey, at least let me take my coat off!"

Yzak refused to listen. He threw a stick at Athrun, almost hitting him in the face.

Athrun sighed, "Anything but the coat alright?"

+o+

Not so far away, Patrick was having tea with the guests he had meant for Athrun to meet that day. Athrun was still sound asleep during lunch, so Patrick said the boy wasn't feeling well last night.

"The boy's feeling sick on his birthday? How unfortunate."

Patrick knew Le Creuset feigned concern. Like many in the king's court, he disliked Lenore, saying a woman not raised as a Zaft noble is not fit to be queen. She liked to talk about public affairs, things women were not allowed to interfere with in Zaft. The public's interest in her had been growing, and for Zaft's conservative nobility, she should maintain a less prominent profile.

But it wasn't so much her right to speak they scorned—it was the things she had to say. Whenever she had the chance, she spoke of equality between the capital and the provinces, between nobles and peasants, between the Commander and his men. The idea of having to share food with "filthy" peasants made their stomachs turn, and many nobles feared losing their privileges if the capital were made equal with the provinces. What worried them more was that the king seemed fine with it.

_Even worse, that woman is raising the next king. Who knows what lunacy she's planted into his head?_ Le Creuset thought to himself. He looked at Dullindal, mixing his tea to no end.

"What news of the North, Gilbert? Reinforcements?"

The king's voice snapped the man back to consciousness. "No. It's as good as won. Give me another month and I'll be sending the men home."

"Ah, good. I knew I could count on you."

"True. But it would end more quickly if you were there with me."

That morning, Lenore convinced the king to stay in the capital while Dullindal handled the rest of the war in the northern provinces. Patrick had just told his two lieutenants that he won't be finishing the battle.

"Reverend Malchio told me the prince wanted to learn how to use a sword," the king said. It was the best excuse he could think of. It was true, anyway.

"_The prince _wants to learn the sword. What do you think the queen will say?" Le Creuset butted in.

Patrick sighed.

Taking a sip from his cup, Gilbert said, "Lenore just doesn't want you to be responsible for killing her people. That's why she wants you to stay."

"Maybe you're right."

"No, you _know_ I'm right," Gilbert said, the grip on his cup tightening. "Is Lenore more important than Zaft now?"

"Such insolence is not to be tolerated, Lieutenant," Patrick eyed him cunningly. Le Creuset could not help but find this amusing.

_And the tension between them escalates,_ he thought. _This has been brewing since he married Lenore. What shall become of it, I wonder..._

The burst of children shouting broke the silence.

"Please, anything but the coat!"

"I don't care about your coat! Take back what you said!"

"But it's true. You've fallen for the fifth time. If this were a real sword, there would have been a big scar on your face by .now. That's not very flattering, you know."

"Shut up!"

"How unruly," Le Creuset commented lazily. "Shall we remind them where they are?"

Dullindal hushed him, his eyes glued to the boys. "Patrick, the one in the fine coat. Do you know him?"

A smile crept up Patrick's lips.

"So that's him?"

The expression on their faces said it all. They were impressed by Athrun's skill in fighting. _A natural fighter like me,_ Patrick thought.

"Enough of you, Yzak, my turn!" said the older boy with blonde hair. "I, Dearka Elsman, will defeat you!"

The other older boy warned, "Dearka, he's younger! Besides, he might be the pr..."

"Prince, sminch. He's good, that's what matters. Get ready, I'm coming at you!"

Like a bull drawn to a red stain, Dearka charged at Athrun. Everyone, including his father, expected him to evade. But Athrun had something else in mind. He grabbed Dearka by his collar, heaved the boy's body up in the air, and slammed it on the grass-covered ground.

Quite happy with what he did, little Athrun dusted his palms.

"Aw, you wrinkled the sleeves! Now my coat's ruined."

Even Le Creuset was shocked. "That boy... must have been twice the prince's size."

"And surely more than twice his weight." said Patrick. Dullindal could hear the father's pride in his voice. Finally noticing his father, Athrun ran briskly toward them.

_Act like a true soldier. Don't embarrass your father! _he told himself.

Patrick motioned his son to face the two lieutenants. "Athrun, these are Lt. Gilbert Dullindal and Lt. Raww Le Creuset. They're..."

"Your friends?"

Dullindal and Le Creuset exchanged looks. Athrun's smile vanished.

Patrick cleared his throat, apparently unfazed. "I was actually about to say they are leading the defense in the North in my stead so I can train you in swordfighting. But yes, they are my friends."

Upon hearing the good news, Athrun burst, "Really?"

The disapproving look on his father's face made Athrun shudder. This did not go unnoticed.

Nevertheless, the two lieutenants put on happy faces, asking Athrun different questions about his studies, his hobbies, what life had been like for him.

"So my prince, how did you lift that boy? He was much bigger than you," Le Creuset asked. _Raww does a horrible job at talking to children,_ Patrick thought.

The investigation made Athrun feel uneasy, but Patrick gave him a reassuring glance.

"I've seen Father do it. But that was the first time I've tried it on anyone."

"Really? That's amazing, _Patrick, _I didn't know your son was so good already! I'm sure you'll make an excellent soldier someday."

_Father? _Dullindal thought. In Zaft, the king cannot be addressed so affectionately in front of people other than his family. Not even the prince could do that.

But Patrick seemed to have let it pass. As soon as they were alone, Athrun said meekly, "Did I embarrass you, Father?"

"What did I tell you about addressing me in public?"

His father's voice was stern.

"Yes, your Highness," Athrun said, feeling defeated. He had hoped that stunt with the blond noble would make his father proud, but it seemed that Athrun blew it by carelessly breaking Zaft etiquette.

"Oh, Athrun, I want you to go with Lt. Waltfield today. You're going to get yourself a sword."

The news made his heart fly, but he fought to keep his composure. "Thank you, Fa... Your Highness."

"Now what was that for?"

A pat on the shoulder. The warmth of his father's hand reassured Athrun that he was not mad. With a hug to his father's waist, Athrun said, "That was the best birthday present you could give me, Father."

Athrun skipped his way back to the palace. Passing by the young prince, Le Creuset commented to Dulllindal, "A little bit soft on the edges, don't you think?"

But Patrick was there to overhear it. "So? You've seen what he can do in a fight. I'll admit, when I was seven, I wasn't as good as he is now. "

Le Creuset snapped his lips shut, knowing the king was not pleased. However, Dullindal looked him in the eye and said, "We won't deny he's good. I'm just worried he won't be able to put his skills to good use."

"Are you saying he'll be a coward in the battlefield?"

From the corner of his eye, he saw the young prince help Dearka up and ask for their names. The prince gave them a cheesy grin, not something a Zaft prince would give someone he just met.

Dullindal shook his head. "No one wants him to learn the hard way."

+o+

And learn the hard way Athrun did. Lenore would not stop crying as fourteen-year-old Athrun lay in bed after being retrieved from Logos.

"I told you so," Dullindal said flatly. "He was caught precisely because he couldn't kill."

"He said he was ready."

"Of course he'd tell you he was ready. He wouldn't want you to be disappointed."

Patrick did not answer. Lenore's sobs echoed in the empty hallways of the royal mansion in Junius.

"Your son was caught because he did not have the heart to kill anyone. It would have been so easy for someone like Athrun to overpower those men."

Still no answer. Patrick just rested his chin on the back of his hand. Lenore had not stopped crying.

"You have to do something," Dullindal broke, taking the seat beside the king. "Lenore is not raising her to be Zaft's king. He has to be a warrior. Like you and me."

He just sat there, motionless. Giving up, Dullindal got up.

"If you keep this up, he's just going to die out there."

Finally, the king spoke.

"Do you remember the first time you killed? How did it feel?"

_This is no time for rhetorical questions, _Dullindal thought.

"Because I can't remember the first time I killed. When I did, it just... happened. I never felt guilty for it. Why do you think it's so hard for Athrun to kill?"

_I already told you why,_ Dullindal thought. _Lenore taught him to love life, Zaft raises its kings to be lord over it. You just won't accept that that woman is ruining this country's future_!

"I severed my ties with him, following your advice, hoping it would make his heart harder. Hoping it would prepare him for his future. But I wasn't very successful at it, was I?"

"Don't blame yourself."

"No, it is. It's part of my task as king. It's just that... I think I made a mistake. If I had been more involved with Athrun's growth, he would have been more prepared for something like this."

"Well, there's no need to worry about that anymore. Did Waltfield tell you how many men he killed to escape?"

He shuddered at the image of his son, naked and covered in blood. But what Patrick wanted to forget the most was the glazed look in the young man's eyes, begging his suffering to end. When he saw those eyes, he felt all his strength leave him.

"There is nothing wrong with how you took your part in raising the boy," Dullindal said, taking his leave. "It's Lenore's fault. But for Athrun's sake, you must admit that."

Lenore had stopped crying. Dullindal had left. In this dead of night, no one would witness. For the first time in his life, Patrick dropped all of his domineering facade. For the first time in his life, he wept silently.

+o+

Since that day, Athrun began to change. He threw away the peasant clothes he used when he escaped to the towns with his mother. He made few friends, entertained no women—which in Zaft was unthinkable for young men his age—and disliked social gatherings. Nevertheless, he became the impeccable model of Zaft social protocol, keeping up with the courtesies required of his royal status and never losing his formality with anyone other than his mother. Even with her, the laughter grew less.

The change in her son worried Lenore. He often stared silently at the sky, flipping a dagger in his hands. When people asked him what he wanted for his birthday, he said he wanted swords he could add to his collection. Le Creuset commented it was a good development, but he did not have to bear Athrun's screaming from his nightmares.

All the while, the pressure on him to become stronger grew.

"_Patrick, don't push Athrun too much. He's doing his best."_

"_Unfortunately, his best isn't good enough._

The nightmares continued. Lenore wanted to comfort her son, but Patrick said he would get over it at some point, even forbidding her from interfering. At some point, Lenore could not take it anymore. She confronted Athrun, asking her what was wrong.

"Nothing," Athrun said, laughing. "I'm just trying to live up to expectations."

Lenore was about to say something, but the young man put a finger on her lips. "There's no need to worry. I haven't really changed. I'm just pretending so no one can say you're spoiling me."

He felt her soft hands touch his cheeks. The years have slowly taken their toll on her, the white shreds of hair peeking through her midnight blue mane. Small lines were beginning to form at the edge of her eyes, the dimples on her cheeks changing to wrinkles. Her beauty was fading.

But not her warmth. Her mother would always be warm—the warmth he could go back to whenever he felt lost. Not able to control his feelings anymore, he hugged his mother tightly.

"I just wish I could help ease your pain a little," Lenore whispered. "You know, sometimes, I wonder if I should have raised you the way everyone told me to—a ruthless killer, like your father."

They were atop Lenore's favorite hill. Athrun's head on her lap, she said, "Sometimes I wish I should have. That way you would have been ready to fight. Killing would have been like breathing."

She could feel his face shiver underneath her fingers.

"You only raised me the way you thought best," he said.

"I raised you hoping your father would put an end to the wars before you had to fight. I never wanted you to fight. I always tried to run away from that thought, pinning my hopes on Patrick. I guess that was very naïve."

"A world with no wars... Is that what you want?"

Lenore nodded, feeling the soft breeze carrying the scent of the last white lilies in bloom. The coolness lulled Athrun to sleep, letting him dream of his mother's world of peace.

+o+

February 14. The army was supposed to infiltrate the house of the last of the rebel leaders in the northern provinces. Protected by Logos' army in the past, its last defeat made the house vulnerable and left only the spineless members of the family to run what was left of it. Athrun, then lieutenant, was chosen to lead the men into the fortress.

The dark stone walls were barely visible in that night of pouring rain. Still, Lenore fought to keep her eyes open, hoping to see a flicker of light.

"You should come in, my queen. No one wants you to get a cold."

Dullindal's presence took her by surprise. The rain beat mercilessly on the walls of the royal rest house, puddles forming on the balcony where Lenore and Dullindal stood.

"No, I'd like to stay here."

"And see your beloved cousin's home one more time?"

The enemies were some of the few nobles who escaped the conquest of Junius, taking refuge in the Northern capital. One of them was Lenore's first cousin.

"Such a tragic way for the prince to meet family for the first time," Dullindal sighed. Lenore did not speak, the tears mixing with the heavy rain.

"But such tragedy is not to befall you tonight, my queen. They have decided to surrender, and the prince decided to accept."

The woman's eyes widened. Dullindal told her how her cousin begged for his life and his daughter's. _How cowardly,_ Dullindal thought, recalling how the man practically abandoned the men who stayed at the fortress for believing in their cause. He was about to finish the both of them off when Athrun stood in the way.

"_Have you gone mad? The king said the leaders are to be executed!"_

"_Do you still raise your sword against a man who has put down his?"_

"But sometimes I wonder why he really let them live," Dullindal said, his eyes on the queen's shaking frame. "Did you ever tell the prince who they were?"

"Of course not," Lenore said bitterly. She really did not. Patrick told her not to.

"_You don't want to make this any harder than it already is, do you?"_

"But still... Athrun would never disobey his father. You know that."

"Lieutenant, if you are accusing me of making a traitor out of my son..."

"And you dare call me that?"Dullindal finally snapped. A streak of lightning flashed among the clouds.

"I've endured all of your arrogance, your meddling, how you've poisoned the people with your promises of equality and the prince with your world of peace! But do not even think yourself equal to the man I hold more respect for than anyone else. You," he said, pushing his finger at the woman's cheek until blood fell, "closing the prince's eyes to his true future, knowing that would destroy us all!"

Lenore slid across the tiled balcony, her whole body soaked as Dullindal shoved her in fury.

"Gilbert, please, you know I never wanted that."

"Oh yes, you did. Wasn't that what you always wanted? Revenge? For us killing your people? That's why you made Patrick believe you loved him!"

The flash of steel made Dullindal turn around, just in time to block Athrun from behind.

"So you strike a man from behind now?"

"No one says those things to my mother and gets away with it."

The two men broke off, eyeing each other like beasts. Lenore begged them to stop, but neither yielded.

"Athrun don't! You're no match for him!"

"You forget who you're talking to, Mother," Athrun hissed, bracing for the kill.

"She's right," Dullindal snickered. "You can't beat me, not until you've learned to give up everything for this fight."

"This is no time to be lecturing me," Athrun said as the rain came in torrents.

"Your mother, your father...these are the things you cannot give up for anything. Not even for Zaft. Ever asked yourself why?"

"I said this is no time for nonsense! Fight!"

"Because those are the reasons you fight. To protect your mother and honor your father... nothing else drives you. Zaft is only third place in your list of priorities."

Driven mad by anger, Athrun ran full speed at Dullindal, aiming for a blow to his neck. The prince's sword only met steel, as Lenore's scream pierced through the thunderstorm.

"Athrun, stop!"

Athrun refused to listen. He continued to shower Dullindal with blows from every direction he could, Dullindal blocking all of them perfectly, never needing to evade a single one. The clashing of steel made Lenore's ears bleed.

"Athrun, please, for your father, for me!"

Athrun still refused to listen. His heart was pounding, his lungs racing to catch Dullindal off guard.

"What are you waiting for? Strike!"

Dullindal only smiled at prince. Not once had he taken the offensive.

"Are you worried about being branded as a traitor? You have my mother as witness. I challenged you!"

Under Zaft law, anyone who strikes the king or his family with the intention to kill shall be convicted of treason. A challenge from royalty is the only exception.

Laughing, Dullindal threw his sword, stretching his arms.

"Come at me then, my prince. I am more than ready to die. I who have just insulted your mother, I who had just called her a whore..."

His wide eyes, his skin flushed with fury, his teeth gnashing—rage had turned him into an animal.

_My son..._

The tears came again. She desperately tried to remember the child she sneaked out with to town festivals, the bouncing toddler who rolled on the grass meadows and gave her all the daisies he could find, the baby she cradled to sleep and sung lullabies to. That boy was gone. In his place was this man who understood only rage.

"I who had just called her a traitor, and you will let me live?" Dullindal continued. "Do you love life so much? Come for your mother's justice. Kill me!"

Athrun's blade finally tasted flesh. Blood spattered on his cheek, his clothes, his hands. Dullindal's eyes bulged, unable to believe what he was seeing.

It was then that Patrick came, the sword falling from his hand.

A single tear fell from Athrun's eye. That moment he wanted to die. That moment he wanted to pull out his sword from the heart he had just pierced so he could stab his own heart. But his arms had lost all strength. The tears fell one after another. He wanted to let go of the sword, but he couldn't move...

Until his mother's hands pulled them off gently. His mother's bloody hands.

"I... don't... want... you... to.. become... a monster...." she said, coughing up blood as she fell to the ground. "You.... were... turning into one.... right before me.... I had... to stop..."

Athrun fell to his knees, trembling. Patrick rushed to Lenore's side. Dullindal backed away in shock, trying to absorb what was happening before him. Lenore whispered something to Patrick, then mouthed a few words to Athrun.

With that, she closed her eyes. Dullindal knew she would never open them again.

"Are you about to apologize, Gilbert?"

Shivering from the rain and the ordeal, Gilbert turned to Patrick, who had not let go of Lenore's lifeless body.

"It was no one's fault," Gilbert forced himself to say.

"No, my friend, it was someone's fault. Someone has to pay."

Patrick carried away Lenore's corpse, leaving Dullindal alone with Athrun on the bloodstained balcony. Athrun's eyes looked to the heavens, as still as his mother was then.

"Athrun, I'm sorry."

Slowly, the young man's head turned to face him. Dullindal would never forget those eyes, the eyes of a dead man—empty eyes drained of all life, thirsty for blood to take its place.

+o+

_Sorry wasn't enough, I suppose._

The day after, the king had him captured, imprisoned and sentenced to death for treason without a trial. The king's word was enough. Everyone bought the story—that bandits he led into the palace had disarmed the prince and killed the queen. Nobody bothered to ask who told the king and everyone believed he was away attending to important matters. After every inch of his body had suffered from the whip, he was made to walk five miles from the capital to the Red Valley, where all men convicted of treason were beheaded. But Patrick made a big mistake.

"The king thinks I bought the story, but I refuse to believe that someone like you would kill the queen. Lady Djibril, please."

The man Patrick assigned for the execution slashed the ropes that bound Dullindal. He whistled, signaling the king of North's young bride to come to the fore.

"Why do you help me?" Dullindal asked the man as he helped the battered noble climb up a horse.

"You have been convicted wrongly of a crime. I and Lady Djibril believe this. Your day of justice shall come."

"I who have killed so many of your people," Dullindal turned to Lady Djibril, whose face was hidden behind a veil, "yet you save me."

"Betrayed by your people, you are now one of us. One of the many wronged by Zaft."

Zaft. The nation he had given his life to. The nation who laughed at him for accusing the king of lying. The nation that abandoned him when he needed it the most.

The greatness of the white city was a lie that protected it. It was a city of robbers, conquering one people after another, calling them Aprilians and robbing them of their name, claiming their wealth and freedom. Since that day, Dullindal made up his mind. He would make the white city fall. He would bring justice to the race of robbers who plagued the world.

It was not just his revenge. It was the revenge of everyone the white city wronged. Every man conquered. Every soldier killed.

_And that will be your living hell, Patrick, _Dullindal thought. _And I will start where it hurts the most. _

+o+

"So would you care to tell us about your past, Duke?"

Prince Kira's question stirred Dullindal from his reverie. Now Duke Fortune, Dullindal had just revealed Orb's big mistake.

_Yet . As Orb you pursue have to ordered not , are we We shall . return claimed to are Zaft South after the the of seven cities _

Dullindal was surprised no one in Orb figured out the Commander's coded message to the king. _Maybe they were hoping too much that Zaft wouldn't push through, _he thought the trick to figuring out the coded message was to arrange the words so that the first word was in the beginning of the sentence, the second at the end of the sentence, the third after the first word, the fourth after the second word and so on. Orb ended up with this interpretation.

_Yet as you have ordered, we shall return to Zaft after the seven cities of the South are claimed. We are not to pursue Orb._

What Orb did not figure out was that the first period and the first word were treated as one unit and that the first word was actually the last in the message. The real message was:

_As you have ordered, we shall return to Zaft after the seven cities of the South are claimed. We are not to pursue Orb y__et__. _

"Shall we dwell on the past when there is much to worry about the future?" Dullindal asked.

_Who are you? _Kira asked furiously in his head. The man who called himself Duke Fortune sat staring at the moon, tapping his fingers to an inaudible beat, the dethroned Heliopolian prince Rey Za Burrel by his side. All the man said was that he was an ally to Orb, and that with the combined forces of Orb and Logos, the white city would fall.

"I am told you have a spy among Zaft's ranks?"

_Cagalli, _Kira thought. They had not received a single letter from Cagalli since the Zaft victory at Lunius. Kira had sent his men out to retrieve her, but they were never successful in finding her.

_We're not even sure if she's still with them. What if she's..._

Kira furiously told himself to forget the possibility. He wanted to infiltrate base camp many times, but everyone advised him both the prince and the princess in enemy hands would spell doom for Orb. He had to control himself.

"I see the spy is an important person to you. Is she?"

"We never told you the spy was a woman."

_I slipped, _Dullindal thought. "Fine, I lied. I know who your spy is. I have a spy in Zaft's ranks, and he recognized her immediately."

Kira froze instantly. If someone in Zaft recognized her so easily, that meant...

"But relax, no one's found her out yet. My spies in Zaft tell me she's living comfortably with Ms. Clyne's friends."

Kira recalled Lacus talking about Luna and Meyrin, and how they might be the ones taking Cagalli in.

"Where are you headed?"

"Aprilius. I'm getting my sister back myself."

"You've tried for so many times."

"This time I know where to find her."

The key was to find Doctor Hawke's home. The problem would be getting in the city. Even traders needed special passes.

"Getting in would be difficult. Only Aprilians are allowed inside," Dullindal said.

"We'll find a way."

"Send me a hawk when you're halfway there. I'll arrange for someone to meet you at the gates and help you get in."

Was he someone Orb could trust? Probably not. But Orb needed all the help it could get, and Kira was willing to give anything to take Cagalli home unscathed. The wind whipped him to gallop faster to the white city.

ooooo

Now i really want to know what _you _think. for people asking me for more kira, you're getting it in the next chapter. see ya people.

and keep the reviews coming!


	31. Getting Closer

Hi, everyone. First, I apologize for taking my longest hiatus yet. My thesis ate me whole last semester. Seriously.

But now, I've graduated (five years of college life finally over, yes!) and I've got a lot of free time on my hands for a change. So allow me to post the chapters I've been itching to show you. It's been a year and a half almost since I last updated, but I still see people somehow digging up this story and sending reviews. Thank you so much. Your support strengthens my resolve to put all of you out of the misery caused by an unfinished piece of fanfiction.

Without further ado, here it is.

Disclaimer: The author of this fic does not own gundam seed/destiny, or its characters, because if I claimed I did, would delete my story—wouldn't it?—and the copyright people will sue me. Any similarities with other fics are purely coincidental, and so are any allusions to real events, places and people.

ooooo

Chap 30: Getting closer

Most of the city was abuzz for the prince's birthday. It was the first time since he became Commander that the prince was celebrating his birthday in the capital, and the royal household has decided to throw off a grand banquet for everyone. An exclusive ball would be held within the palace, and every girl craved to be in the limited list.

"So I've been skipping the bread in my dinner for the last week, and I've been cutting down on dessert, too. You think I'll fit into a 22-inch corset in time for the prince's ball?"

_Are you even invited?_ Luna muttered, eyeing the 150-pound woman who was pinching the flabs on her sausage-like arms. Nothing was more annoying than a disillusioned fangirl thinking she did not need a miracle for her waistline.

"I think you'll need a stricter diet regimen for that," she smiled, handing her the address of a dietician she knew.

"Is this Miss Cagalli's secret to staying so slim?"

"Er, no, but it'll definitely help you lose weight. I will give you one little secret, and this is something even the prince admits to doing."

The woman was all ears, eager to hear it.

"Exercise. Nothing beats it."

When the crowd started to thin, Luna pulled out a letter that a messenger from the palace delivered the other morning.

_Lt. Todaka, _

_I cordially invite you, Captain Shinn Asuka and Ms. Lunamaria Hawke who are both under your care to my birthday ball at six in the evening on the 29th __of October. If you can make it, please send me a message. _

_Athrun Zala, Prince of Zaft. _

He must have given one of his aides a template for all the invitations, Luna grumbled. Whoever came up with the guest list, he must have meant to include everyone in Lt. Todaka's household—he was a high-ranking officer in the military, after all.

Leaving out Meyrin from the invitation might have been an honest mistake. So Luna wrote a letter addressed to the prince yesterday.

_Dear Prince, _

_We are honored to be invited to your grand ball at the end of the month, and we shall all come to celebrate your birthday with you. However, we would like to bring with us my younger sister, Meyrin, as she is also under Lt. Todaka's care and has also served throughout the latest Southern campaign. _

_We couldn't be more thankful if she were allowed into the hallowed walls of the palace's grand ballroom. We hope for your consideration and thank you, once again, for the invitation. _

_A humble servant of the throne, _

_Lunamaria Hawke_

It took her several drafts before she decided on the final message she would send to the prince. That morning she received the reply. Luna felt like pulling her hair out.

_I apologize, I forgot you had a sister. I've asked someone to put her in the guest list, tell her to tag along. Thanks._

The note was clearly rushed—the ink was smudged all over, showing he had rolled up the note in a hurry and threw it at a lackey's face for delivery. But the handwriting was unmistakable. It came from the prince personally.

As she heard Meyrin humming the happy birthday song like most of the other lucky girls invited to the prince's ball, she thought she shouldn't have told her little sister that the prince sent a _personal_ note. The more her little sister sang it, the more she found the dreadful song annoying.

+o+

But Luna still forgot someone who should have been in the invitation. Cagalli couldn't care any less, though. She was not a noble—at least as far as most people knew—and she did not think living with a lieutenant in the army entitled her to any perks.

She did not want to assume she was close enough to the prince to be invited to such an exclusive ball. Sure, she saved the prince once and shared one or two intimate moments with him, but that didn't make her special.

So Cagalli never bothered to tell Luna that she should have been invited too. After all, she wasn't Aprilian.

_There are better ways to honor a person_, she thought. The cool autumn breeze of Zaft's golden wheat fields were refreshing at midafternoon. All the girls raving over being invited to the ball seemed so ludicrous they made Cagalli feel better about herself. At least she wasn't desperate, even if she weren't invited.

She was finally at the foot of the one place in Zaft she had always wanted to visit. The sunrays were gentle, beating on the marble tombstone of Queen Lenore's grave like moonlight on a glass window pane. Cagalli lay down the bouquet of lilies she had brought for the queen. She knelt, whispering a short prayer.

When she opened her eyes, she saw another fresh bouquet of lilies.

"My mother would have been happy to meet you."

Her heart skipped a beat. She had no idea why. But somehow Athrun's sudden presence caused every muscle in her to tense up. Maybe it was because she had not seen him for over a week. Athrun approached the marble tombstone, knelt down and kissed it. He laid his forehead on its cool surface and closed his eyes. Cagalli had never seen his face so calm.

That smile on his face was something only his mother could bring out in him.

"To thank you, what do you say to a little tour of the countryside?"

Cagalli wasn't able to answer quickly. "Aren't you busy?"

Athrun got up. He looked as if a long nap had rejuvenated his senses. "Yes, but I'll be taking you to places I'm scheduled to go anyway. I can show you around."

She spared one last look at Lenore's grave before they both headed down the hill. A gust of wind blew away both of their bouquets, dancing in the vast expanse of Zaft's fields.

+o+

"How far to the next town?"

"A couple of miles. Come on, Cagalli, it's not like you'll grow mumps if you get near me."

"Getting the mumps is better than being seen on a horse with you."

"Hey, take that back."

They had visited two towns so far. Zaft was divided into provinces, which in turn were made up of towns with at least five villages under a town steward's supervision. The two were received awfully well in the first town and the townspeople even offered the prince two bushels of apples, a barrel of apple juice and a week's supply of apple pie. He politely asked the steward to send the goods to the capital on their next trading trip.

"So now you're asking them to deliver their gifts to you?"

"No," Athrun barked, a little annoyed that Cagalli took the gesture offensively. "I asked them to do that so I'd have something to trade the goods with. They won't accept payment, but they'll accept it if I tell them it's a thank you gift for the good reception."

"And what do you intend to give?"

"Haven't thought about that. Oranges?"

The next town wasn't as friendly, primarily because most of their harvested crop and houses were burned in a fire the other day. Athrun promised help from the capital and gave the town steward a bag of gold coins.

"Use this to buy what supplies you'll need so you can have roofs to sleep under tonight. Find a messenger and send him to the nearest village. They owe me some apples and pie. Tell them to deliver it here instead of to the capital."

They were now headed to the third and last village on Athrun's list. It was already dark. _Walking_ from village to village was already taking its toll on Cagalli's poor feet.

Athrun had been offering her a ride since they left for the first village. But Cagalli adamantly insisted on walking. They had been walking for at least three hours. Athrun quietly grumbled as he walked holding his horse's reins. It was unbecoming of a gentleman to ride while a lady suffered the dirt of the ground. But Cagalli would rather grow calluses the size of her big toe than be seen on horseback with Zaft's prince.

"Cagalli, do I look like the plague? Is it embarrassing to be seen riding with me?"

_Yes, _Cagalli thought, her eyes twitching as she endured her sore limbs. She already had enough rumors going around that she and the prince were a couple. Besides...

"There is no way I am letting myself look like a trophy princess."

"What?"

"Look, I don't ride with men, alright?"

"You always rode with men back in the campaign. What's your problem now?"

"I don't ride _with _men in their horses. What part of that is so hard to get?"

In her anger, she tripped on a jagged rock stuck on the ground. Cagalli still refused to get on his horse, but Athrun said the more she insisted to walk, the longer it would take for them to get to the next town. She had no choice but to agree.

+o+

It was already around nine in the evening, too late to be visiting anywhere for official business. Still, Athrun insisted on going to the third town.

"There's a little village I want you to see there. It only happens once a year. I won't let you miss it."

"Isn't the rest of the palace going to look for you?"

Athrun snickered, thinking it was funny that this comment came from a girl. "They would come looking for _you_."

Cagalli knew what he was implying, but he quickly thought of a reason even she would concede to.

"You're foreign, after all. You don't know these plains very well. We'll just see the place for a few minutes."

The ride went on quietly. The faded wooden walls of small cottages and the little black clouds clustered on their chimney tops were the only structures that broke the field of golden wheat, among other crops that were ripe in harvest time. Everything seemed to fade into the glory of golden wheat, even the trees were stripped of all their greenery, gaunt fingers stretching for the sky.

The view was best at sunset, when the sky was as golden as the earth, and the sun tinged everything in that coveted color of autumn. The cool nights soothed the aching muscles of everyone—the men working the fields, the women preparing supper, the children sweaty and tired from playing tag all day.

This golden paradise was the true foundation of the white city.

"You can get back on your horse now. My knee feels much better."

No answer.

"Hey, were you just using this little scrape so you'd get me on your horse?"

Athrun finally responded, clearly annoyed. "You wouldn't get on that horse even if I hauled you up, unless you got hurt. Luckily, you did."

Cagalli felt like hitting him on the head. In the horizon, she could see the village they were going to, a small glowing streak in the darkness.

"Let's hurry. We're already late for the festival."

"There's a festival now?"

"Of course. Our most celebrated season is autumn. Harvest time."

Around the same time, the villages in Orb were surely dressed in festive colors. The wheat there was just as ripe as they were in Zaft. Cagalli felt a sudden wave of homesickness.

She did not notice Athrun sneak his hand into a knapsack attached to the horse's saddle, getting a worn brown hood. He put it over his head and climbed up to sit behind Cagalli.

The princess was about to protest, but Athrun wouldn't have any of it. Without another word, they sped off into the darkness.

+o+

"Slow down!"

Athrun was going so fast, he never gave Cagalli time to recover after almost falling off the horse. She practically had to cling to him for dear life. To his amusement, the prince kept going faster.

She shrieked, "You are enjoying this very much, aren't you?"

Her shrill scream made him go even faster, plunging through a patch of forest in the middle of the fields. Only a sliver of light trickled from the forest's canopy—the leaves have not yet fallen from their branches in these parts yet. The horse zigzagged across the maze of trees and wildlife, its hooves threatening to crush all little creatures which were unfortunate enough to be in the way.

Cagalli could not bear to keep her eyes open. On many occasions, she felt they would hit a tree or slam into a beehive. As soon as she tried to peek, Athrun held his reigns to a sudden stop.

"Sorry. We almost ran over a squirrel."

The little animal was petrified, the walnut in his hands rolling over to a nearby stream. The horse neighed, shooing it away as it continued to squeak in terror.

"That poor thing, you almost killed it!"

"Well, I didn't. Shall we go then?"

"I'd appreciate it if you'd slow doooooooown!"

The girl's scream echoed in the night, sending just about every animal in the forest scampering out.

+o+

The horse finally pulled to a stop. Cagalli tried to sit up straight, but she felt like throwing up.

"A traveler should be quite used to rough travels," Athrun looked at her sympathetically. "Can you stand up?"

"Anyone would throw up after that crazy ride," Cagalli scowled. She did not even complain when Athrun lifted her off. To her relief, the world had stopped shaking.

The singing and dancing all around them shook off the headache. The village shone brightly with several torches and pyres, the streets full of people looking at wares brought from all over the world. The scent of the best apples, oranges and other fruits filled the air. The aroma of roast chicken and grilled pork made her mouth water, as the colors of different fabrics and gems blinded her eyes in the reddish gold light of torches.

Everywhere Cagalli turned her head, there was gold.

Gold chalices, vases and even teeth lined an entire street, shining brighter than any part of the makeshift bazaar. They seemed so oddly placed in grimy planks and tablecloths, but they were all real gold. Athrun explained that buying a gold piece from the festival would bring good luck to the fields and make the wheat as brilliant as the gold.

As Cagalli expected, Athrun bought himself a gold ax for his collection. He noticed Cagalli looking at a small jewelry stall.

"I didn't know you cared about jewelry."

The sudden words made her jump in surprise. The old man in the stall laughed at the two, his lone tooth showing.

"There something you like, lad? I'll give it to you for half price if it's for your pretty girl."

Blushing hard, Cagalli tried to explain that they weren't a couple. But instead of taking her side, Athrun politely told the man they did not need the discount.

"Aren't you going to tell him off?" Cagalli asked, pulling on his arm.

"Why?"

"He told us we were a couple!"

"Really? Is that what you mean, Sir?"

The old man was dumbfound,staring at the two. He honestly thought the lady was engaged in some way to the young man.

"You're overreacting, Cagalli. Go on and pick something. I'll pay."

Her cheeks still red, Cagalli turned to the old man.

"Lady Cagalli? The prince's savior? My lady, it is my honor to serve you!"

Everyone turned their heads to the little scene, making Cagalli blush even harder. She quickly picked something out, shoved it in Athrun's hands and thanked the old man before scurrying into a less populated part of the festival.

"Interesting nickname you've picked up."

"Give it a rest, Athrun," Cagalli grumbled, hitting him hard on his gut with her elbow.

"Ow, that hurt."

"Do not feign hurt, oh great Athrun Zala. You've survived more terrible wounds than that."

Athrun couldn't help but laugh at her fruitless efforts to look intimidating. Annoyed, she kept nudging her elbow to the same spot, telling him to shut up. She tried to whack him in the back of his head, but the height difference spoiled the blow.

"Playing with another man, Miss Cagalli?" Shinn sneered, approaching Cagalli and the hooded man. "If you keep doing that, I'll tell the Commander."

"Why you little..."

Shinn was not as fortunate, being the same height as Cagalli. A small bump on his head marked where Cagalli landed a hard thud on him.

+o+

"Cagalli, I'm sorry."

She wouldn't turn back to him. Shinn looked to his superior for a little help.

"Oh, come on, this can't go on for the whole night. Please don't tell Luna I made you mad. She'll make me do the dishes until winter!"

"Now I know how to keep you in check," Athrun chimed in. "I'll make you wash the dishes for the army the next time you challenge me to a brawl."

Shinn bit his tongue, not having anything witty to retaliate with. Cagalli was a few feet away from them but still in their sight.

"Sir, is this what I think it is?"

"If you haven't realized where you are, get your head checked," Athrun answered. "You're in a festival."

"That's not it! I meant..."

Shinn wasn't sure how to go about asking this. Were Cagalli and the Commander dating? When did this start? Did the lieutenants know? Did the king know? He knew there was something going on since he found those two sleeping in that medical ward back in Lunius!

The sound of flutes and harmonicas dumbed down for the main event. The lights were even brighter in the center of the village, where everyone had gathered for the annual rodeo.

+o+

The village was famous for breeding the best horses in the land, but one or two were born stubborn as mules. Before they could be sold as horse meat, they were forced to duel with men in the rodeo ring. As in all rodeos, the man who can stay the longest on the mad beast was declared the winner.

This year's unlucky horse was a mare, her black mane swishing in the wind as she flung her limbs wildly. No one had lasted for more than a minute aboard.

"Want to try it, Captain?"

His new title sounded awkward to Shinn. He had been promoted to captain as soon as they got back from the Crusade during the welcoming ceremonies. He could still remember how nervous he was when the Commander added another bar to the pin symbolizing his rank, meaning he was no longer at the bottom of the commanding chain.

But something caught his eye and reeled his attention right back. Panicky, he tugged at the prince's sleeve. As soon as he saw what Shinn found, Athrun felt his jaw drop.

They chorused, "She's going to try the rodeo?"

+o+

"She's crazy, Commander!"

Athrun scolded himself for letting Cagalli out of his sight. "Cagalli, get back here!"

They found the girl wearing the usual protection for riders—body padding for her torso, a lightweight helmet, neck support, gloves and knee pads. He almost shoved away the little lackey trying to help her wear all the gear.

The last man almost got thrown off into the crowd as the horse flailed her limbs. The ringleader blew his whistle, signaling the two aides to throw lassos at the screeching beast to stop her from breaking the poor rider's bones. After much struggle, the mare stood quietly, waiting for her next challenger.

"The next challenge comes from a woman!" the ringleader said, gathering thunderous applause. "This is a first, ladies and gentlemen! Let's see how she fares."

But before Cagalli could enter the ring, Athrun pulled her arm.

"Just what are you thinking?"

"I'm joining the competition. I like one of the prizes."

"Are you crazy? You'll get smashed to bits!"

Cagalli gave him a sour look.

"I'm not having that. Now get back here with us."

"Are you with her, Sir?" the ringleader asked. "The people are getting impatient. We must start the show. Is she your betrothed?"

"No," Cagalli barked.

"Yes."

"What are you..." She wanted to tear off the hood from Athrun's head and strangle him, but he cut her off.

"If something bad happens to her, her brother is going to have my head off, so I am very concerned about her wellbeing."

"Well," the ringleader shrugged his shoulders, disappointed such an interesting exhibition was not meant to be. "He's technically your guardian. There's nothing I can do, Miss."

Cagalli turned to Athrun, "You must let me do this."

Athrun rolled his eyes. _You're as stubborn as that horse, _he thought.

"If you don't, I'm canceling this engagement!"

Everyone in the little stable was aghast, including Athrun.

"What are you saying?" he whispered fervently. "What engagement?"

"You started this, stupid. I'm just playing along. Two can play this game."

Athrun gave her a look that could have made anyone's blood go cold, but she stood her ground with a look just as menacing. Shinn thought the girl was very brave.

Suddenly, Cagalli gave him her sweetest smile. "Please, love, let me go. I've always wanted this since I was a little girl."

Everyone within earshot was silenced. The men turned green with envy while the girls tried to peek through the man's hood. Shinn couldn't believe his ears—or his eyes. Even the Commander's arms were visibly pink.

_Nah, he'll rub it off and drag her away, _he thought.

"But your brother will be really mad at me after this. And you could get hurt."

_Oh my god, he's playing along! _This was a first. Shinn thought Athrun was allergic to girls. _If anyone in the army sees this, you'll never hear the end of it, Commander!_

"I'll be fine, love. You just go up there and watch."

Her acting was flawless. Her smile was natural, just enough for most men to say yes to her. Everyone let out a mushy "Aw..." as they watched her kiss him in the cheek.

_That_ almost made Shinn fall to his knees.

"Aw, lad, let her go! She's such a sweet girl, I'm sure the mare will be nice to her. Women understand each other, you know. Come here, let's get you a nice seat with your friend."

Athrun was pretty much incommunicable until the ringleader left them in the nearest patron seat.

+o+

He was still perfectly still as the lackey finished strapping Cagalli into the horse's saddle. Curiosity got the better of Shinn. He tried to remove the shawl covering Athrun's mouth, but Athrun pulled it back immediately.

"Sir, I had a feeling you weren't breathing anymore."

"Shut up, Captain. That woman... Has she no shame? She just called me her fiance in front of everyone!"

"No one would ever find out who you were. At least you won't have to think about rumors," Shinn grumbled, grabbing a bag of chips from a roving food seller. "But she has guts. She even kissed you to make it believable. It was just a peck on the cheek, but it was still a kiss. Lucky you."

The entire crowd gasped in unison. Cagalli had almost lost her hold on the reins. She grasped tightly at the mare's mane, angering it further. The horse flailed about, its movements even more violent. Cagalli's hand slipped from the bundle of hair it was holding, almost causing her to sink to the ground if not for her tightly bound saddle.

As if possessed, the horse started to shake her body like a rag doll hanging on for dear life. Cagalli held on to the horse's neck to keep herself from falling and from breaking her back.

The mare, annoyed that the girl had lasted a full minute with her, rose on its two hind legs, a frantic effort to shake her off. This sent many jumping off their seats, and Athrun leaping into the barricaded ring—almost.

"She asked for it, Sir. Let her."

"Shinn, if something happens to her..."

"You take responsibility. You let her go."

The couple beside Athrun shivered as he punched the wooden rails in front of him. The wood almost broke, but Shinn's eyes were still glued to the rodeo.

"You're very concerned about her, Sir."

"Of course!" Athrun bellowed, his patience gone. "She's a girl. And she's no match for that thing!"

"But you let her talk you into letting her get into the ring. I'm amazed. No one's done that before. Not your friends, definitely not me... not anyone. I don't want to interfere with your personal affairs, but do you like her?"

His friends had always teased him about it. The people around him often talked about how lovely Cagalli was, and how she had the qualities of an ideal noble. He knew they were trying to imply that the prince should make a move. But for the first time someone posed the question.

Did he like her?

"Now's not the time for that, Captain."

"Your reason tells you that but your heart tells you otherwise. You can't keep running away from it. I think you must answer the question now."

Cagalli had lasted with the mare for five minutes. She had already won the competition, but she hasn't blown her whistle. The ringleader had called for the lackeys to pull the mare back to her stable, but Cagalli told them not to.

Someone from the audience called out, "She wants to master the horse. Let her."

The horse continued to thrash about, but Cagalli had a good grip on her. Softly, she whispered, "Listen, does it hurt when I touch you this way?"

Cagalli almost fell off when the horse stood on its hind legs again. She whispered again, putting her cheek on the horse's neck. "I'll loosen my hold on you. But you'll have to stop moving so rashly."

Then she slowly let go. The mare still wouldn't stop its rampage. Luckily, the harness was well-strapped, a handle she could hold on to. Carefully, she tried to reach to the horse's neck again, her lips letting it touch the back of its head.

"Listen, does this feel better?"

She ran her hands along the mare's sturdy neck, massaging it amid the burning heat of the torches around them. Unfortunately, this seemed to have irritated the horse more.

"Calm down!" Cagalli squealed. The horse rose high above the heads of the crowd again. The girl held on her more tightly.

"There is nothing to fear. Breathe, breathe."

Then she touched the space between the mare's neck and chest, rubbing the bulging hard muscle. Somehow, it calmed the beast. It stopped flailing about, but it still tried to shake Cagalli off.

"Please trust me. I won't hurt you."

Cagalli remembered what her father taught her the first time she almost fell off a horse. _Even a beast can understand love. Believe me, if you earnestly offer it, it shall always be returned. _This time, it worked. Cagalli got up from her position, patting the horse's head. Her hooves, once fierce, gracefully strutted the ring. Claps and cheers erupted everywhere. Cagalli gave a small bow, and the horse even followed. A long sigh of relief came from the ringleader, who was sweating like a pig.

"My lady, congratulations! Now it's time to claim your reward. What'll be, the bag of gold, this complete set of jewelry, or that lovely mare you seem to endear?"

Half the crowd thought she would take the jewelry. To their surprise, Cagalli kicked the horse to spring into a dash.

"I'll take her! Thank you very much!"

+o+

Athrun was still miffed while they were riding home. It had been a strange night for him. He had never accompanied a woman deliberately putting herself in harm's way. He had fought many battles, but in times of peace, nothing was more exhausting than being Cagalli's escort.

"You seem to love adventure, don't you?"

"Of course, I travel a lot, after all."

It was a lie. The only places she had seen before the Crusade were Orb and the neighboring cities in the South. Her brother would never let her leave the palace without an escort, and before her trip to Heliopolis she had never left Orb without him. There was no way she could go around taming violent horses.

"But my brother would always be with me. I never travel alone. So I never really got to do the things I did tonight. I apologize for making you worry."

It seemed to have taken Athrun by surprise. This was one of the few times she had been honest about her identity—somewhat, at least. Had she really been so unruly that night? With the euphoria of her rodeo experience gone, she was calm enough to realize that she had done more than enough to make him lose his patience. She waited for his reply, but he just nodded his head, a small smile on his lips. They rode on quietly.

Her brother would always be with her—that was true. For Kira, Cagalli was precious. No one treated her more like a princess than her own brother did. As a child, she had the most absurd requests to see famous people and wild animals, for all of which both her father and her brother did everything to give her. One time, they had even brought an entire circus—complete with elephants and tightrope walkers—just to entertain the princess on her birthday.

They spoiled her rotten, but the one thing they never let her do was go on her own adventures. A trip to the woods always called for a fully armed escort with Prince Kira leading the way. She was allowed to tread the path her brother had made for her, and only that path. For 18 years, Kira had never let Cagalli out of his sight.

Free-spirited as she was, she never hated him for it.

"_Promise me you'll never do anything without telling me."_

It was an old promise she made to her brother after she fell into a small well—the only time her brother let her go off and play in the meadows on her own. Since then, Kira always kept a watchful eye, even as his duties grew from protecting her sister to protecting their country. Only his most trusted men have earned to right to be the princess' personal guards.

Though they spent less and less time together, she always felt his presence. He was always with her.

For the first time in 18 years, at that moment he let her join the Crusade, Kira allowed Cagalli to move without his guidance. Sometimes, she asked herself why her overprotective brother suddenly let her go, but there was no point to that now. She had covered up her identity with an elaborate lie, creating a whole new character for herself. Her mission had been easy so far, and fulfilling, too. She had never been involved in so many lives, received so many thank you's, or found so many new friends.

Lying to these people felt like betrayal, especially to Athrun. Of everyone in Zaft, he was the one person she wanted to be honest to. Sometimes she couldn't help but be honest. She could not figure out why.

_Is it because he had always been honest to me?_ she thought. Athrun had shared with her stories he had never told anyone else—his capture in the North, intimate times with his mother, the anxieties that plagued him because of the hundreds he had killed. Why did he trust her so much? Was he—she did not want to entertain the thought.

Did he, despite his unwavering focus and his antipathy towards women, somehow have feelings for her?

She shook her head furiously. That was being full of herself. They had known each other for three months only. That could not be enough time to develop affection. Infatuation, maybe, but not love. And Zaft's prince was immune to infatuation, as far as she knew. Just because he trusted her does not mean he was in love.

"_The very fact that you are friends means something," the man continued. "No woman, except for his mother, has ever stepped into his inner circle."_

But how true were the old soldier's words? He seemed to know the prince very well. Did she really have some sort of special relationship with him? They felt like normal friends, nothing more and nothing less. He tried to make jokes, and she told him frankly when they were not funny. They've argued with each other but made up soon after, and comforted each other like good friends do. Did that make her special? Didn't he do that with his other friends?

_Wait. Why am I even entertaining this thought?_

They were friends, that was it. Her imagination was going overboard. Maybe she counted as a very, _very_ close friend. He also counted as a very, _very _close friend. Nothing more and nothing less. She should not keep her hopes up.

"Gah, what hopes? We're friends, that's all!"

The odd look on Athrun's face—and the rest of the soldiers guarding the massive oak gates of the white city—told her she had just embarrassed herself by bursting out from her reverie.

"What were you thinking about?"

"Nothing. What's that smirk for?"

They eventually reached Lt. Todaka's home. Few people littered the streets at that hour. Shinn had gone inside to find a place for Cagalli's new horse. From outside, Cagalli could hear Luna berating him for not bringing a gold piece from the festival. The smell of Meyrin's pot stew filled the air.

Not a soul was in sight. Something soft and warm, warm against the cool autumn wind, pressed on Cagalli's cheek.

She yelped, almost falling off her horse. With a cheesy grin on his face, Athrun said he was just trying to get even for the kiss she gave him in the rodeo earlier. With that, he rode off. She was frozen on her mare, who was silent for the first time that night. In her perfect stillness, she could hear her heartbeat racing frantically. She willed it to stop. Concentrating hard, she prayed her heart would stop acting so foolishly.

It won't.

Luna finally realized she was outside, calling her to come in. For a while, Cagalli was deaf to that. She ended up following Athrun's figure as his horse galloped uphill along the road leading to the royal abode, swiftly among the shadows of the towering buildings of white stone and brick. Her eyes would not let go of the figure, somehow willing it to look back.

Just one look. When it finally did, and the figure gave her a small wave, her heart finally calmed down. She finally started breathing again.

When Cagalli got to her room, that was when she realized how tired she was. Her body ached everywhere. With the adrenaline rush gone, her bruises started to hurt.

"Cagalli, someone left flowers for you just now. I'll put them here."

Exhausted, she waved Shinn away. For some reason, he seemed rather piqued. Was he still mad for that little bump she put on his head? She was sure her body ached much more than that. Nevertheless, the scent of white lilies was irresistible for her. Few people knew which flowers she preferred. In fact, only one person in Zaft did.

Realizing this, Cagalli scrambled up from her bed. A little note was sticking out from the bouquet. Her hands shaking, she read the note.

_I completely forgot the reason I asked you to come with me today. I was supposed to invite you to my birthday ball at the end of the month. If you don't mind, could I be your escort for the night, too? The court insists I come with someone. Lady Aisha will visit you sometime to fix a dress for you. I hope you can make time for the 29th__. _

Athrun's handwriting was horrible. The strokes were too thick, the spaces between each stroke too narrow. It seemed he had tried too hard to imitate the elegant lettering in the invitations he asked his messengers to write, but it was a miserable failure. Cagalli didn't mind though. Restless in her room, she knew her answer was yes.

She tried to close her eyes, but sleep evaded them. Tossing and turning in her bed, she read the note over and over again. Her heart started to race again. Her mind stated to replay the events of the night, her cheeks turning beet red whenever she recalled how she kissed him in the cheek in the middle of a crowd, and how he did the same right in front of Luna's home.

Finally, the whole house shook with a shrill scream. Shinn swore his eardrums popped.

"Does that mean a no?" Athrun genuinely looked disappointed. Lt. Todaka offered him tea when he came back to deliver the flowers. The prince decided to stay and wait for Cagalli's answer.

A bitter look in his face, Shinn answered for her. "Nope. That clearly means yes."

oooooo

There. Some people may have been expecting Kira in this chapter, judging from the cliffie in the last chapter, but I've decided this theme was more appropriate at this point of the story. And I wanted to give readers a treat, so I forewent the serious chapter for this fun, lighthearted piece. Next chapter will do a lot of explaining. I've typed it already, but I'm still trying to sort out which secrets I'll reveal now and which I'll save for later. It'll be uploaded in a week or so. Thanks and hope to hear from you all.


	32. Tactics

Hi everyone. I was supposed to upload this yesterday (Saturday), but I got really preoccupied in the middle of proofing it. A lot of things have been happening here so forgive me if the update is rather late. Just in case you wanted to know, I've done FOUR versions of this chapter. This version, the original, ended up being the best. Frustrating, I know, but here it is.

This chapter is a little short, so bear with me if you enjoyed the longer chapters better than the short ones I uploaded when I started this story. This is very discussion-heavy, no Asucaga interaction here (sorry to anyone who was expecting. You'll get lots of that in the next chapter ^_^) and there are a lot of references to previous chapters. I think you'll remember those little bits I put in anyway. Without further ado...

Disclaimer: The author of this fic does not own gundam seed/destiny, or its characters, because if I claimed I did, this site would delete my story—wouldn't it?—and the copyright people will sue me. Any similarities from other fics are purely coincidental, and so are any allusions to real events, places and people.

ooooo

Chap 31: Tactics

As the plazas emptied out and the lights went off in the white city, Athrun waited in his study at the highest tower in Zaft's royal palace. Lt. Le Creuset asked for an audience with him, saying he brought a very important guest. Hundreds of names flashed in his head. In this dead of night, the sound of approaching footsteps was pristine and ominous.

The door swung open. He didn't know how much he could trust the old lieutenant, considering he was a close friend of Dullindal. Now that they had confirmed he was alive, it seemed that his father's old suspicions were right all along.

Yzak, Dearka and Nicol kept their swords ready. They had no idea who the guest was, but just in case Le Creuset brought a snake, no one would be caught off guard.

When he turned around, four hooded figures stood between him and the old lieutenant. One of them let her hood fall, rushing towards the prince.

"Athrun!"

Dearka was swift to stop her halfway across the room. "Lady Meer?"

"No, Captain," Le Creuset replied. "This is Lady Meer's sister, Lacus Clyne."

"From the house of Clyne?" Yzak asked.

"Yes, the one formerly led by the late queen's cousin. That makes her the prince's cousin."

It seemed that even Lacus' companions were surprised. None of them knew that Lacus was related to Zaft's premiere theater actress, who usually went by the alias Clandestine. The lady took a few steps back, her head bowed.

"Tell me something I don't know, Lt.," Athrun said. "What do they want from me?"

Le Creuset bowed and left the room, the grin never leaving his face. The leader of the group removed his hood and so did everyone else.

The silence seemed to cut through everything like a knife. The three Zaft soldiers waited for their Commander's order, but none came. Among the four guests were a big burly man and a much shorter girl. They both had their hands on their weapons. Lady Lacus had taken a step back, but if she was afraid she did not show it. Their leader looked perfectly calm.

Athrun finally broke the silence.

"Well, this is a surprise."

The leader of the visiting group snickered. _They know each other?_ everyone else wondered.

"I wasn't expecting the famous Athrun Zala to be the young man visiting the Heliopolian funeral after the attack."

"And I wasn't expecting the visiting traveler to be the prince of Orb. Rather, I had an idea, but I thought it was impossible. Sheathe your swords. This man will not attack anyone tonight."

All three swords from Zaft clinked as they snapped back to their sheathes. The two armed fighters in the other side of the room also relaxed.

"Shall I offer you tea?" Athrun asked, motioning to stand up.

"I don't think it is appropriate for you to offer tea to a prince of a country you are about to attack."

With Athrun finally standing up, Nicol noted the difference in the two princes. Athrun had the advantage in height and in build. That meant more power in every blow, but that often compromised speed.

But the difference wasn't so large. Orb's prince was only shorter by an inch or so. They were both lean and probably equally fast.

Nicol gave up. There was no use guessing who would win in a fair fight.

"Let's get to business, then. Why have you come here, bringing my cousin with you?"

"I'm here to get my sister back."

The Zaft soldiers exchanged looks. They had never heard of a foreign princess taken and brought to the capital.

Except one soldier.

"All of your men look quite shocked to hear this," Kira continued. "Except for that soldier to your right."

Nicol didn't flinch as everyone's eyes fell on him._ Impressive_, he thought._ None of us budged when he mentioned her, but he could tell who was surprised and who wasn't._

"What is the meaning of this, Commander?" Dearka finally asked. He was still lost in the conversation, but Yzak had figured it out. It was all quite clear to him now.

And he was furious. His worst suspicions have been realized.

"Your sister's not here," Athrun answered.

"I thought you had more honor than that," Kira muttered. _I know she's here. Don't hide her from me._

"You make it sound like we kidnapped her. We didn't. She came on her own accord. She's not here in the palace, but she's staying with a doctor from the army under the care of one of our lieutenants."

"Cagalli?" Dearka finally blurted out. His head slowly pieced bits and pieces of the truth together. The fact she told so few where she was from, the fact she worked so hard in the medical team, the fact she was so close to Zaft's highest officers...

"She was a spy. We actually have a right to detain her." Athrun confirmed Dearka's suspicions.

_She was a spy all this time, _Dearka thought_. She was trying to find out Zaft's most valuable secrets and send them out to Orb! How could we have been so stupid to trust her! _

"You knew all this time?" Kira asked.

"Of course. She was so obvious, one of my men caught the bird she used to send messages. All intercepted, of course."

Nicol, the calmest of the four, threw a glance at Yzak, who was obviously the angriest. Everyone could see his fist shaking from beneath his sleeve.

"Why didn't you detain her?" Kira knew that question would be a tricky one. It seemed that none of the men, except for the soldier who intercepted the messages, knew who Cagalli was. Worse, the Commander did not inform the king or have her interrogated. It seemed that he had let her do as she pleased, a clear violation of their code.

_But he is the Commander, _he thought._ There's no such thing as a violation from him. _

Athrun got up and told all four of his soldiers to leave. None of them followed immediately.

"I do not need to repeat my orders. Move!"

They shuffled out quietly. Dearka could not help but look doubtfully at his superior. _He's hiding something. _

"It's very obvious, Commander," Yzak muttered. "If you dragged her here because you think she's your prize for winning the South, you are making a grave mis..."

"Move, soldier. Now."

Not even Yzak wanted to argue with Athrun when he had lost his patience. At least the lieutenant still had some restraint left not to bang the door shut. Kira was the first to speak.

"I think we have lots to talk about, Commander."

Their shadows, as they waned in the light of the little lamp in the prince's study, seemed to remind Athrun of the war he must wage. He remembered Dullindal, the ill-fated lieutenant whose sole purpose was to destroy Zaft's royal throne, and his own promise to his father that he will conquer the world. He remembered what Kira said about a war to end all wars.

"Do you know what you're fighting for now? Or do you still need someone to tell you that?"

"A week ago, I would have given you a very different answer."

Cagalli had made him believe that a Crusade meant to make one king rule over the world only served the purposes of that ambitious king. Athrun had accepted that. It may have been foolish to let so many die for that cause.

But this time around, he had a better, more urgent reason to wage war—one that clearly posed a threat to the people he had sworn to protect.

"There is someone in your camp that we must destroy at all costs. Your country stands between us and that man."

Kira smiled—the first true smile that reminded him of the kind traveler he met in Heliopolis. "I have an offer you might want to consider, Prince. Perhaps in the end, there is no need for a war."

+o+

"Are you saying, that all this time, Zaft's prince knew exactly who Lady Cagalli was?"

Le Creuset smirked as he sipped tea in one of the more affluent apartments in Aprilius. "Apparently. Nicol Almalfi, one of his captains, saw Cagalli strapping a note to a messenger bird. He's been luring the poor bird and intercepting the messages ever since."

"Upon the Commander's orders?"

"No one else can tell him what to do."

In this room, a younger man and a lovely lady met with the lieutenant, following Dullindal's orders. Not once joining the conversation, the lady kept giggling to herself, which the young man found quite annoying.

"Why, Prince Rey, I just find it amusing that our densest prince has found true love. Why, I've been trying to get my charms to work on him for all these years, but here he is putting his name and the hard-earned respect he's gained on the line for one woman."

The woman, a fairy skipping from Rey's side to Le Creuset's, whispered in the old lieutenant's ear, "And you all know how irresistible my charms are. I've put it to good use several times in this Crusade, haven't I?"

She was the same woman who had seduced the kings of Heliopolis and Miyercuria to resist Zaft's unstoppable forces, plunging them into bloody chaos with her womanly wiles. Zaft must not have an easy victory over the South, said Dullindal. He knew the cities of the South would not last against Zaft's forces, but at least they could weaken the white city's army. It would be unwise for Aprilius to use what was left of the newly conquered armies to replace those they have lost in the Crusade. Dullindal hoped the decrease would be significant, and he pulled all the strings he could to make sure that happened.

All of this in preparation for the war for Orb.

"Unfortunately, Heliopolis, Lunius and Miyercuria weren't much of a challenge for Zaft," the woman sighed, disappointed with how much effort she exerted to make them fight. "It turns out that the Mariners' cities would be of more use to our cause, and I didn't have to do anything for them."

"Your job was to turn the cities of the South into formidable enemies of the army. You did well," said Le Creuset. "And you brought us a new ally."

Rey looked at the woman in her body-fit, strapless dress, the neckline a little lower than what he thought was acceptable. The woman found him lying half-dead at Heliopolis' gates after the city's siege. She took him in her home in Aprilius—the same home where they were now holding their rendezvous—and cared for him until he was strong enough to make the tiring journey to Logos. There he met Dullindal, now called Duke Fortune, for the first time.

The dishonored man told him about how he had lost face in his own country, framed for the death of the queen. He told him about how Zaft's prince killed his own mother and how the king covered up for it. The king made it look like no one doubted his word, but there were too many loose pieces that did not fit. On the night of the queen's death, there was not a sign of a struggle in the mansion. All of the servants were asleep at the time of the supposed attack. If dozens of men stormed into the palace, why was it so quiet?

If the prince was disarmed when the bandits barged in, keeping him from protecting his mother, why was he uninjured? Most important of all, what would have Dullindal gained out of conspiring against the queen? Many of the soldiers, especially those who served directly under Dullindal, found these questions unsettling. They were told to shrug the questions off, but one captain thought an innocent man did not deserve both death and condemnation. He volunteered to be Dullindal's executioner, only to free him with the help of the young queen of Logos.

This man was Rey's uncle, his mother's brother who had raised Rey before Azrael adopted him. His uncle taught him that Zaft was a country that valued pride and honor, but Dullindal taught Rey differently. Zaft was protected by the wars it waged. These both eliminated their enemies and kept potential ones from being too ambitious. The kings would sacrifice thousands, soldier and civilian alike. The superpower pretends to be the world's savior from barbarism and misrule, but in fact Zaft—no, Aprilius' true goal was to save itself from its enemies who wish to bring down the throne. This philosophy Dullindal passed on to everyone who believed him—all of them have tasted Zaft's blade and suffered for it.

"Has Gilbert told you why Zaft wants to rule the world?" Le Creuset asked Rey.

"He told me what Zaft has made its people believe, and why that was wrong."

"Ha, Gil surely is naïve to say that," Le Creuset snickered. He knew how Dullindal had been blinded by his quest for revenge and justice for Zaft's victims.

The woman chimed in, "You call him naïve, yet you are his ally. Which side are you really on?"

"My side, of course," the lieutenant answered quickly. The two exchanged looks.

"Relax, I won't betray Dullindal. I just find his logic rather... messianic. He sounds like he wants to save the world."

"And you think he can't?"

"My, you think he can? You certainly have become a loyal dog, Prince Rey."

Rey clenched his fist. Le Creuset's tongue was too sharp for his own good. The woman stood between the two men, smiling sweetly.

"Now gentlemen, do not make a mess out of my house. Lieutenant, be so kind to explain to us what you mean."

"Gilbert simply wants to beat Patrick senseless for sending him to death. And he wants to take Athrun down with him. He says he wants to bring justice to everyone Zaft has wronged, but isn't that just trying to find a better justification than his own selfish reasons?"

Rey bit his lips, restraining himself. The woman was no longer smiling.

"So you two never realized that? I see why, Gilbert helped you both when you needed help most. Nevertheless, you musn't hate him for his selfish motives. He seeks justice for himself, is that bad? You would do the same. I would do the same. In the end, we all fight for our own self-serving causes. Justice, loyalty, love—these are all pretty words to dress up the true, ugly reason humans fight. We fight because our lives depend on it. We'd be killed if we let the enemy's sword come crashing down on us. The fear of death, of losing everything he has worked for, of never seeing his loved ones again, drives all men harder than anything else."

The two stared at Le Creuset doubtfully, as if they were trying to guess where the man's loyalties lie. Why Dullindal keeps his ties with this man, they had no idea, but the conclusion for them was clear. This man was dangerous.

"The king of Zaft is also very human, surely not exempted from man's selfishness. He'll say he's a patriot fighting for the country. That sounds heroic, but care to guess why he says that? Why he bothers building an army of epic proportions, why he sends his son out to conquer the world?"

Rey answered, carefully choosing his words. "To ensure the stability of the throne?"

"You're finally getting my logic!" Le Creuset said gleefully. "That's expected of a dethroned prince, I guess. You've experienced it first hand, how a king can lose his place for neglecting his lineage's valor in battle. The people needs heroes, an assurance that no one can take their property or force them into slavery. More importantly, their leader needs to show everyone who's boss. So the more Zaft grows, the more it becomes necessary for its Commander to show his strength."

"So to prove that strength, the Commander conquers more."

"Which in turn, causes his domain to grow and a new need to display his prowess in battle arises. With every conquered land, he gains new subjects and new enemies. The moment he falters will be his and his family's doom, so he makes sure he has a formidable army to back him up. The old dogma rings true, no matter how much Prince Athrun would like to change it. The army fights for the king. That is the true reason Zaft wants to rule the world."

A chess board lay on a small coffee table between Le Creuset and Rey, each piece polished so well it gleamed under the moonlight. The lieutenant took out one of the black pawns, flicking it away and letting it fall softly on the carpeted floor.

"In the end, your rank doesn't matter. Soldiers are simply pawns for the king. Fortunate are those who belong to the revered officials standing alongside him. But for the most part, the army is simply a collection of pawns to be disposed at the king's bidding."

Rey took a white knight from his side of the board. "And where do you fit in this chessboard, Lieutenant?"

A gleeful smirk under his white mask, Le Creuset lifted a white bishop and placed it in the space where the black pawn was—right in front of another bishop. In its way of attack was one black knight and the king.

"Why, I'm a bishop of course. One of the king's powerful advisers. I stand alongside him, but I can roam across the board, although my movements are limited," Le Creuset answered, moving one of his pawns forward to make way for the other bishop. "Right now, I'm close to the enemy's side, waiting for the right moment. Of course in the course of the game, the king will send out his pawns and his officials to the other side of the board, gnawing away at his opponents."

Then the lieutenant started to put the black pawns forward, taking down other pawns one by one. The black bishops and rooks also made their move. The last to join the fray was the black knight closest to the king. Rey and the woman watched the lieutenant as he ticked off one pawn to the next, clearly enjoying the havoc he was causing on the chessboard.

"Rules aren't as well-defined in war as they are in chess. Our moves are not limited to our positions."

In the end, most of the pawns were gone, with more of the black pawns taken down. Among the officials left on the black king's side were the knight and the bishop. Both were deep into the domain of the white king.

"You know why Zaft's walls have never fallen?

Both his companions were silent.

"Because Zaft never lets the war reach its walls in the first place. The moment a city poses a threat, the army comes knocking at its doorstep. Always on the offensive, never on the defensive. That was our secret to success."

The woman fingered her small chin. This discussion was not her forte, but she was finally understanding things. "Does this mean Zaft has never actually defended the capital?"

"Precisely. The frontiers, yes. Logos would have loved to take the Northern frontier back. But no army has ever reached the heart of the country."

"So as to the army's defensive ability," the woman continued, "it has never been tested?"

"Yes. Very soon, Zaft will come for Orb, sending most of the army to fight the combined forces of King Uzumi and Duke Fortune. King Patrick will probably leave a substantial part of the army here in Aprilius, but..."

Le Creuset took all the white pieces, lining them up on the row facing the black king. All of his officials were out on the other side of the board. The black king was absolutely defenseless. Dullindal's true plan finally daunted on Rey.

"You're using Zaft's own tactics to render it defenseless under an attack."

"With most of his men away, he has no choice but to surrender."

The woman still looked skeptical. Le Creuset asked, "Not convinced this will work, Lady Meer?"

Hesitant, she answered, "It's a brilliant plan, but I have a feeling the king has a backup plan for something like this. Besides, he can always just call the army back, can't he? Then this elaborate scheme would be all for nothing."

The lieutenant shrugged his shoulders. Lady Meer's knowledge in warfare had never been stellar, but her instincts were impressive, for a woman. _Despite the fact she is just a stage actress_, he thought.

"Well, I wouldn't say that. There are many pieces in this war neither Patrick nor Gilbert can predict. These wildcards will determine who wins."

Le Creuset picked up the white queen, which had plunged deep into the side of the black chess pieces. It was surrounded with the remaining black pawns, as if it was something they had to defend.

"The queen is the only woman in the field, yet it is the most flexible. The only move it can't copy is the knight's move. She is the king's most powerful ally, once you think of it. In this game, the white queen has the most varied arsenal of any player. It can use her wits, her strength and her charms to reach her goal. Now what will happen if we place it in front of this poor black knight?"

The queen, with a graceful swing of Le Creuset's hand, kicked the black knight out of the game. The knight rolled across the board, down to the floor, like a bloody soldier fallen in battle.

ooooo

So that concludes chapter 31. To everyone who's been asking, I am now making it absolutely clear: Athrun was fully aware of Cagalli being a spy and a princess since chapter 18. Remember the part where she sends Haro away and someone was watching her. That someone was Nicol (I think people were suspecting Le Creuset, but Le Creuset knew who she was since chapter 10). Nicol told Athrun and ever since Athrun never told anyone else. Whatever THAT implies, go figure.

I have a feeling this will be one of the less popular chapters, but I'm hoping you'll appreciate how this chapter foreshadows how the upcoming war will be fought. Oh, and I kinda like Le Creuset's philosophical moments, so bear with me. To everyone who's been reviewing, thank you so much. I've been getting a lot of anonymous reviews lately, so I hope all of you can get an account so I can reply to all your reviews. Hm, that's enough for now. See ya.


	33. A sliver of hope

I'M BACK. Thanks to everyone who reviewed the last chapter. I know, everyone's complaining because the update's a little late, and I'm pretty sure I scared the heck out of some people with the possibility that I may go on indefinite hiatus again. For that, I sincerely apologize. A ton has been happening at home. To cut the very long excuse short, I got sick these past two weeks so I wasn't able to concentrate on anything. More importantly, I had to live for those two weeks WITHOUT MILK! A milk-less week drains my creativity. But now I have my creamy milk coffee with extra sugar and I can type away again.

In any case, I have good news and bad news. The bad news is that I realized that when I was doing this chapter, parts 1 and 2 didn't really go together, so I decided to split them. Hence, all the Asucaga action, which I put in part 2, are not in this chapter. But they'll be in the next one, I swear. (prepares herself for readers clicking the close button and putting off their reading until I come up with decent Asucaga)...

The good news I'll save for later. I'm making a big announcement at the end of the chapter, and if you want to hear it, I say you read this update till the end. But I will tell you now, if you're a Kira fan, you'll like this one. So without further ado...

Disclaimer: The author of this fic does not own gundam seed/destiny, or its characters, because if I claimed I did, this site would delete my story—wouldn't it?—and the copyright people will sue me. Any similarities from other fics are purely coincidental, and so are any allusions to real events, places and people.

ooooo

Chap 32: A sliver of hope

That night had been clearly engraved in Lacus Clyne's memory—a stormy night in that lone citadel guarded by an empty fortress in the outskirts of Junius. It was the first home she ever knew, once a well guarded castle that housed what was left of the Junian nobility and the army that protected it. With each year, the army grew thinner. With every battle, one of her kinsmen died. In her 13th year, all that was left of the proud lineage that once ruled the wheatbasket of the North was her father.

Her father, Siegel Clyne, was no warrior. He took the backseat and let his more zealous brothers take arms. At last it came to a point where there was no one else to lead the army of less than a hundred soldiers against Zaft's onslaught. All her father wanted was to live a peaceful life with his Lacus, the only treasure he had left. Everything—everyone else was already taken from him.

When she heard Zaft armor squeaking at its joints, she knew all hope was lost. Her father took him in his arms and hugged her tightly. He tried his best not to show he was afraid. Beneath her messy bangs, she saw his face. It was calm, save for a tiny crease on his forehead.

The men finally made their way to the room they were hiding in. Siegel made not a single sound. He only covered young Lacus' eyes. But she did not need to see. She knew one of the men was coming forward, bracing for a fatal blow.

"Spare us, please. We are no threat to you now. My daughter will die of anguish without anyone with her."

Her father, so revered in his demeanor, sounded so humble that time. He sounded like a servant begging his master to forgive him. She could hear the tears he fought to hold back.

Silence followed, blocking out the pouring rain, pierced by the sound of an unsheathed sword. She tried to speak, but no sound came out. She heard the sword swing down, the sound soft as silk sliding across her palm. She closed her eyes, trying to engrave the sensation in her mind. It could have been her final memory. The sound stopped with a loud clang.

Siegel finally let her daughter go. She saw the sword that had once threatened them clatter to the ground. The man who held it, his cheeks flushed in anger, faced another soldier clad in the same armor he was. That man took off his helmet. Both of their faces would forever be engraved in her memory, the sound of their voices clear to this day.

"Have you gone mad? The king said the leaders are to be executed!"

"Do you still raise your sword against a man who has put down his?"

+o+

After that encounter, she and her father were taken as prisoners in Aprilius. They were detained for less than a day. For some reason, a priest who introduced himself as Malchio said they had been released under the king's orders. With nowhere to go, she and her father wandered the streets for three days. That day, when the sun shone proudly on the white city, she saw the same man who had almost killed them paraded on the streets like a criminal.

The people told her he was a trusted lieutenant of the king, but he had the gall to kill their beloved queen. They told her the entire story, the truth shadowed by fanciful rumors. She heard so many versions, she did not know what to believe. All she was sure of was what her father told her. Queen Lenore, her aunt, was a kind woman. She did not deserve such an end.

Determined to find out the truth, Lacus sought Athrun, who at the time shut himself in isolation. Through Malchio, she was granted an audience with the prince in secret. He sat slouched in his bed, his eyes staring off into space.

"I'll say it for the last time. It wasn't me."

Lacus looked at the prince curiously. His hair was a mess and he looked like he hadn't eaten for days. But beneath all of it was a beautiful face, one that greatly resembled his mother.

"What do you mean?"

"I said it wasn't me! I didn't kill her!"

His sudden outrage caught her by surprise. Malchio instantly stood up, putting his hands on her shoulders. "Do not be afraid, this is just shock overcoming him."

"It was Dullindal's fault! He made me fight! Mother got in the way. I didn't mean to..."

"Reverend, what is this?" she asked, her voice quivering. Malchio shook his head, saying it was best to leave for now.

"It should have been Dullindal who died. I didn't mean to... I didn't mean to kill her!"

Lacus froze in her seat. His eyes wide, fists clenched and pounding on the sides of his bed, the prince started to mutter feverishly, bits of the truth revealing themselves in his delirious confession. She kept her eyes nailed to her hands folded on her lap, afraid of his deranged, bloodshot eyes. His fingers dug into the wood, blood falling on the white bedsheets.

Lacus would not dare look at him in the eye. His eyes inspired the most fear, as if the blood had been squeezed out of them, veins popping out of the white of his eyes like hideous scars. His eyes were so wide it was as if their sockets wanted to spit them out. Finally, the murmuring stopped with the front door banging shut. Only then did she realize that she had been led out of the room.

"What did you gather from what you heard?"

It was a voice different from Malchio's, one she had never heard before. It spoke in whispers, sharp as daggers piercing the night air in stealth. Lacus felt her chest tighten, as if the daggers had come to pierce her heart.

"He said... he killed her."

"What do you understand from that?"

The man wasted no moment. He made no pause when he threw the next question. As it echoed within the tower's stone walls, the voice seemed to engulf her in a cave of fear. She was shaking from head to toe. Slowly, she realized, she might not come out of that tower alive.

"That the prince... killed the queen."

She did not dare raise her head. She was too afraid to see the man's hand grab his sword in rage and thrust it down her throat to silence her forever.

It was the secret that could bring Zaft's royal throne to ruin.

She waited for it, the sound of a descending blade. She anticipated the painful screech of steel slicing against her flesh and bone. But nothing came—simply the sound of footsteps echoing in the dimly lit corridor.

"It was an accident. Dullindal provoked him by disrespecting me and the queen. He fought, as any good son would have. But Lenore didn't like what she was seeing. She got in the way, and he was unable to pull back. I didn't get there in time."

The man had walked away from her, settling in an armchair placed near a window overlooking Zaft's wide domain. Lacus gathered the courage to look at him. His shoulders were limp, the exhaustion aggravating the dark circles in his eyes and the hollowing of his cheeks. Yet he tried to maintain a stern demeanor, imperative of his title.

"Your Highness..." Lacus pushed out, bowing slowly.

"Rise, there is no need for that. I only ask of you one thing. Leave this city and never come back. We will arrange for you a home in Heliopolis, a few miles from here. You'll have a peaceful life there."

Once strewn with fear, her face was now full of confusion.

"Your father may find work there as a musician. Lenore told me he loved to play the piano. If he's good, he'll make it in the conservatory. You can even enter that school, if you pass the exam."

"But your Highness... aren't you going to kill me?"

The king gave her a quizzical look. He stood up and approached her. She may have just pushed her luck, Lacus thought.

"Open your eyes. I won't hurt you."

When the dim flame of the torch beside them shed light on his face, he was smiling. Shadows accentuated the deepening lines of his face, making him look older.

That was all he was, despite his domineering facade—a father who deeply loved his son.

"I ask of you only this. Live freely in happiness, doing what you love best. Lenore always wanted that. But I beg you. Do not speak of what happened tonight to anyone. If this gets out, I will be forced to put my own son to death."

The true reason he framed his closest friend for a crime he never committed. The secret of that stormy night. Lacus had promised to keep her lips forever sealed.

"Please, he is all I have left. I'll do anything to keep him with me."

+o+

As the king promised, Lacus and her father were sent to Heliopolis, where he earned fame as an esteemed professor in the Heliopolian conservatory of music. When he died, one year after they moved to the golden city, Lacus had already established herself as a popular songstress. She kept living her life peacefully, making friends with Orb's royal family, gaining the trust of Orb's prince, all the while keeping the secret of the queen's death.

That was until five years after that fated night. Now that she sat in the same room as Zaft's prince, Lacus felt unsure of what she did. Before they left Orb, Lacus had told Kira the entire story, hoping it would somehow help him negotiate with the Commander. All she could hold on to was the promise she asked Kira to make.

_I tell you this believing that you will not use this to bring that family to ruin, but only to save your country from war. I don't want you to fight him. I'm sure Cagalli would agree to this, wherever she is._

"You seem rather confident of this," Athrun started, taking a seat on a couch across Kira's group. The two warriors Kira and Lacus came with, the lieutenant Mwu La Flaga and the lady fighter Miriallia Haww, stood at guard behind the two.

"Like I said, I have an offer you are sure to consider," Kira answered, his eyes moving to a bowl of cookies Athrun was pushing towards Kira's side of the table, an effort to break the ice.

"They're not poisoned. At this point, you're guests. To kill you now would be a crime in this city."

Kira took one cookie and munched half of it in one bite. The rest followed, biting on them gingerly.

It didn't lighten up the mood one bit.

"Your offer." Athrun continued, staring point blank at Orb's prince. Kira gulped down the other half before continuing.

"First, you must know something. I know the truth about your mother's death."

The friendly look on Athrun's face vanished. Lacus' eyes widened in shock.

"Is this true?" Athrun turned to Lacus. Lacus never thought Kira would so bluntly tell Athrun that he already knew. Trying to act calm, she nodded.

To her surprise, he seemed unfazed. In fact, he was smiling.

"If you're offer goes something like, I won't tell anyone else if you spare my country, then that's a very bad idea. I can just kill you here and now."

In an instant, Mwu and Miri drew their weapons. Kira bid the both of them to hold back.

"That's not quite it. And I have a very good reason for you not to do that."

"Go on," Athrun said, sheathing back his own sword.

"I know Dullindal is alive, and you're after him."

Lacus could feel Athrun's penetrating stare. _He knows it was me who pointed Dullindal out,_ she thought.

"Now, here's my offer. If we help you capture him, you'll abandon the campaign for Orb. There will be no war. We can all continue with our peaceful lives. What do you say, Prince?

Everyone from Orb was shocked. Despite everyone's unbelieving expressions, Kira's eyes were glued to Athrun, waiting for an answer.

Lacus felt she had to say something. She had to help Kira somehow.

"You are willing to betray an ally for peace? It says a lot about your principles and how well you keep to them, Prince."

Her heart sank. Athrun didn't look like he was buying it. The anxiety of that stormy night returned to her, the anticipation of waiting to be killed. Once again, she felt like a helpless bird trapped in cage.

_Have faith in him_, she thought. _In Kira._

"We all have certain things we value more than anything else. If it would save even one person's life in Orb, I'd give up my pride any day. Isn't that a nobler way of doing things?"

The cool wind in Athrun's study felt like sharp needles pricking her skin everytime it blew, reminding her of the night she promised to keep her silence. Fear gripped her just as it did that night. But now she was braver. She would no longer remain silent.

At first, her voice broke.

"We know that you hate war just as much as we do. This is why we have decided to offer you this. Please consider."

Her heart pounded in her chest. She was no longer afraid of being killed on the spot, but now she was anxious of Athrun's reply. Reassuring her, Kira held her hand. The warmth seemed to help her calm down.

"Ehem," Athrun interrupted. It took a while before they both realized everyone was staring.

"You two make it sound like I make all the decisions. In the end, all I do is follow the king's orders."

"So does this mean..." Lacus couldn't hide the excitement in her voice.

"I'll have to talk this over with him.

Hope surged within her, the heavy burden lifted instantly.

"Don't be too happy about this. Like I said, I don't make the big decisions. My father's hell bent on getting Orb, whether I like it or not."

"But I have your word. You'll convince him," Kira asked.

"Do I also have your word that you'll give me Dullindal?"

"Yes."

"Dead?"

Kira paused to think.

"I can't do that."

"I thought you said you'd do anything for Orb."

"I'll do only what is necessary. Injustice has been dealt to him. I know you agree."

Through gritted teeth, Athrun said, "Lacus really did tell you everything."

Not to be intimidated, Kira stared at him point blank. "She did. And that's as far as I am willing to go. I will deliver to you Dullindal and leave the two of you to deal with your own issues. My people don't need to be mashed up in all of this. That's all I'm willing to do, and that's enough. What do you say?"

Athrun fought not to show it, but his clenched fists showed that whatever sympathy he had was slowly changing into anger.

"You don't want this war," Kira continued. "I've seen that. I'm giving you the perfect reason to give all of this up. You don't have to fight anymore."

Somehow, this calmed Athrun down. Kira had that strange talent, Lacus thought, a strange ability that made people feel at ease. He knew just the right words at the right time.

"If peace is what you want, you won't get it by continuously killing everyone until they fall under your command. You'd just keep killing to keep such an empire together. You know this. That's why you have to stop."

Now that he was calmer, Athrun didn't look intimidating at all. He had shed the demeanor he imitated from his father. Now he looked much like the young man Lacus met for the first time five years ago.

To her, he was still the young man driven to the wall by guilt. _What do you see, Kira? _

Athrun finally spoke, "Give me until the end of the harvest season. I'll talk to him."

"Why can't you give me an answer now?"

"Our plans have been put into motion since I became Commander five years ago. It won't be that easy to call the whole thing off."

There was still the possibility that Athrun would be unable to convince Zaft's king. But at last there was a sliver of hope Orb could cling to.

"I can't promise you that we won't come for Orb. But I will promise you that I'll do everything to prevent war."

Smiling, Kira extended his hand. With a smile on his face as well, Athrun grabbed it. The two soldiers from Orb breathed a sigh of relief. Hope was no longer a faint light waning far away.

"Just one more thing. I've come here to bring my sister back to Orb."

"Like I said, we didn't kidnapped her,"Athrun shot back, slightly annoyed. "You can pick her up anytime. I'll take you to where she's staying tomorrow morning."

The prince sighed, stretching his arms. It was a bit late and all of them desperately needed some shuteye. Lacus couldn't help but notice, though.

"You seem... disappointed that we've come to take her home."

Athrun shrugged it off, calling an attendant to lead them to a room within the tower he was staying in.

ooooo

Ok, I hope you liked all of that. One thing I need to clarify about Chapter 31. I made a little typo last time. Athrun was only with three soldiers, not four: Yzak, Dearka and Nicol. There was originally a fourth soldier (Shinn), but I realized he could be better used at another time. Thanks to everyone who pointed out that mistake.

Now for the announcement. Today, I have made my resolve to update this story every 17th day of the month, starting today. Yes, you read it right. REGULAR UPDATES. Seriously, I don't know why it took me so long to realize that the only way I'll be able to churn out chapters regularly is to impose deadlines on myself. I'll be very busy starting next month, so I need to tighten my schedule a little bit. Please pray that I'll be able to meet this deadline.

Oh, and one last thing before I coerce you (not encourage, I COERCE you) to review. I was very busy this month so I was't able to answer to the second half of reviews (really sorry for that). I love all the readers, you know that. So even if I can't reply, know that you guys keep me going. So press that little purple button now... See ya next month!


	34. Indecision

Hello, world. For everyone who expected an update last August 17, I sincerely apologize. I was really busy with work and I didn't want to give you a half-baked chapter, so I broke my promise (sorry..) and postponed uploading.

By the way, this time, I have an interesting treat to Kira fans and Asucaga fans alike. Think of it as a peace offering for the late upload :)

Without further ado, I give you chapter 33. Enjoy.

Disclaimer: The author of this fic does not own gundam seed/destiny, or its characters, because if I claimed I did, this site would delete my story—wouldn't it?—and the copyright people will sue me. Any similarities with other fics are purely coincidental, and so are any allusions to real events, places and people.

ooooo

Chap 33: Indecision

The sun rose high above their heads as Lacus made her way to Lt. Todaka's abode, where Cagalli was staying. It was harvest time and the air smelled of apples, oranges and ripe wheat. The songstress could almost taste the strawberries, piled up in a big mound being carted to the main plazas. Aprilius was a city ten times as big as Orb's capital, but the streets were twice as full.

Every face was unique, a sign of the vast array of races added to the Western superpower.

Athrun arranged a carriage for Lacus, Mwu and Miri. On the other hand, Kira asked to stay behind, saying he had other things he wanted to discuss with Zaft's prince.

"I have a feeling this has something to do with Princess Cagalli," Mwu sighed, chomping on the last bit of sandwich in his hand, part of the king-sized breakfast Athrun arranged for Kira's party. Mwu hated to admit it, but he had to give the prince credit for being extremely hospitable.

"In any case," Mwu shrugged his shoulders. "Last night was quite a surprise. I didn't think Zaft's prince would be that..."

The two girls looked at him curiously.

"That... nice. I can't believe we talked him into giving up this war just like that."

"He apparently doesn't want to attack Orb either," Miri replied. "He's probably more of a pacifist."

Lacus nodded, watching people's faces as they rushed past her in the carriage. "From what I've seen last night, he seems to be a gentle person. I feel at ease if someone like him is watching over Cagalli."

The carriage finally came to a stop. They got off in front of a plain two-story apartment in the middle of Zaft's military complex, where most soldiers received free housing. Lt. Todaka was a high-ranking officer, but he preferred to live simply.

A middle-aged, fatherly figure opened the door.

"Uncle, we have guests?" Luna peeked outside, carrying laundry from upstairs. Her eyes wide, she jumped to the front porch. "Lacus!"

The doctor bombarded Lacus with kisses and the biggest bear hug she could manage.

"Lacus! What brings you here? It feels like forever since I last saw you! How have you been? Are you losing weight? Cagalli will be thrilled to see you! Cagalli!"

Mwu and Miri were awestruck as they watched the perky girl disappear into the kitchen.

"We were worried for nothing," Mwu laughed.

"Why would you be worried?" Lt. Todaka grinned, opening the door widely for their guests. "Now let's get you inside for lunch. You're in luck, Cagalli's doing the cooking toda..."

Suddenly, smoke started to come out of the window. Mwu and Miri dashed inside, Lt. Todaka and Lacus following suit. When they reached the kitchen, gray smoke fogged their vision, the smell of something burning prompting all of them to cover their noses.

From inside, someone was going ballistic. Luna was trying her best to calm him down.

"I've had it! Either she gets out, or we go hungry!"

"Shinn, calm down."

"Luna, before this, she's ruined five apple pies, two strawberry shortcakes and twelve sets of fried eggs. This time, she almost burned the house!"

"Hey, I did not. The kitchen just caught a little fire, that's all."

Leave it to Cagalli to wreak havoc in the kitchen.

"Miss Cagalli, what were you trying to do?" Lt. Todaka asked between coughs, finding somewhere to step in the maze of muck and food leftovers. Lying on the stove, still smoking from the harrowing ordeal, was a soiled rag covering a pan of unrecognizable mush.

"You put too much firewood," Shinn spat, wiping the sweat and grime from his face.

"_You_ were supposed to put in the firewood. You were taking too long so I did it myself," Cagalli retorted.

"I told you not to touch anything!"

"Cagalli, you shouldn't put too much firewood when you're frying something. The fire got to the oil and caused the whole thing to burn. Shinn, you should have taught her that."

Shinn scowled at Luna for defending Cagalli. "Well, I'm sorry if she can't cook to save her life."

"Take that back, squirt."

"Who are you calling a squirt? You almost got me killed!"

Todaka felt like hiding his head in the oven. This was embarrassing. He couldn't blame Lacus, who was overcome with laughter.

Only after landing a few punches on Shinn's head did Cagalli realize that her closest friend was at the door, laughing at how ridiculous the scene was. The princess jumped to the door, throwing her arms on her best friend.

+o+

"This is unfair."

"Give it a rest, Shinn."

"Why do I have to buy today's dinner?"

"Because _we_ burned today's lunch. Get over it and let's hurry up."

The sour look never left Shinn's face. He almost burned himself trying to salvage what he could from their ruined lunch, and to top it all off, Luna blamed everything on him. If it were any consolation, Lacus offered him a sandwich.

"Here. Since it's Cagalli's fault that you had to skip lunch today. It's a little cold, but it tastes good."

Shinn took it gingerly, mumbling a quick thanks.

_So __he's __that __boy __Murrue __told __me __about,_ Mwu thought, recalling the Zaft soldier who befriended Stellar, Vierna's ill-fated princess. Murrue Ramius, the city's exiled sovereign, told Mwu about Stellar's story when she reached Orb.

_This __boy __escaped __Vierna's __walls __when __he __was __being __interrogated, _Mwu contemplated further. Murrue did not know the details of Shinn's escape, but torture in her city was sure death. Nevertheless, Shinn survived.

_He __must __be __a __formidable __fighter, __then, _the lieutenant thought. Shinn may have been leaner than what Mwu would have expected from a Zaft soldier, but his stance was impeccable, his head squarely set on his shoulders, hands always ready to draw his sword. The boy also seemed aware of the fact that he was being observed.

"Don't be so tense. You don't need to be cautious of them. They're my friends," Cagalli grinned, nudging Shinn's belly.

_Then __tell __him __to __stop __staring __at __me,_ Shinn thought. "I'll go get the meat for dinner. You get the condiments. And please don't mix them up this time."

Rolling her eyes, Cagalli grabbed the money from Shinn's hands and sped to the other side of the market. Lacus and the rest followed her.

"Princess..."

"Miri, in this city, please refrain from calling me princess. Call me Cagalli," the princess grinned.

Miri sighed. It was the first time she had seen Cagalli after three months of paranoia. "You have no idea how happy we are to see you safe."

"I was fine all this time. Luna and the others are taking good care of me. Sure, Shinn annoys the hell out of me, but he's a nice person."

"Anyway," Mwu coughed, throwing a quick glance behind them. "We've come here to bring you home."

"What? Why?"

"What do you mean why?" Miri asked. "Everyone back in Orb was worried sick!"

"But I'm doing so well here! I've neglected to send messages for a while, but I promise to send notes every week from now on."

"But you've never sent us a single..."

"Ah, Lady Cagalli! I just passed by Captain Asuka a while ago. I knew I'd bump into you sooner or later."

Before Miri could finish what she was saying, Nicol popped into the picture. Mwu recognized him to be the soldier intercepting Cagalli's messages.

_They __seem __friendly,_ Mwu thought, noting how Cagalli was completely at ease. In fact, Nicol seemed too friendly to be a soldier. _The __princess __seems __to __trust __him __completely._

"Oh, Nicol, these are my friends from Orb. These are Mwu, Miri and Lacus."

"Oh my, you look just like Clandestine! She's a very famous actress here. You know her?"

Nicol seemed to pretend that he never met them. Mwu concluded one thing.

_They're keeping Lady Cagalli in the dark about the assault against Orb._

Mwu grabbed the hand Nicol extended in friendship, making Nicol wince in his firm grip. But Mwu knew he feigned hurt. A Zaft soldier would never be so soft.

The lieutenant coughed softly, covering his mouth with his scarf. From behind it, he whispered to Miri. "There's one watching from the left and one from the right. At least 20 steps away."

Nicol started to bombard Lacus with questions as to how she was related to Zaft's premiere actress. Miri smiled, a gesture of friendship.

_Sure, __keep __the __act __up,_ Nicol thought beneath all the smiles. _We're __watching._

+o+

Nicol was very helpful in Cagalli's shopping stint. By the time they were done, they found all the spices they needed for roast chicken, all at a much cheaper price. After an hour of searching the market for Shinn, they found him among a throng of people crowding around a wooden stage, the Zaft emblem waving proudly on four towering posts built on each corner.

The crowd was on their toes, watching a mock sword fight between two fighters.

"They've been at it for 30 minutes! Who do you think will win?"

"Of course, _he'll _win! He never lets us down."

"What about the other fighter?"

"He took down the last 20 men he fought in less than a minute each!"

"Commander, we're rooting for you! Don't lose!"

"Where did that genius come from?" Nicol asked, narrowing his eyes to zoom into the fight, which was a good distance away. The crowd cheered every time the Commander almost got his opponent. "He's definitely giving the prince a hard time."

"I can't see the other guy from this far away. Shinn, how can you stand watching the fight from here?"

Shinn ignored Cagalli, his eyes nailed to the fight.

"But still, that foreigner's amazing. You seem to know him, Sir Mwu."

Mwu tried to keep his friendly airs up, but Nicol's pretentious smile was getting on his nerves. From that distance, Mwu could tell that the two fighers were panting, their stamina wearing off.

"Look!" Nicol squeaked, faking an excited spectator's reaction. "He almost got the prince. He's good!"

"Too good," Shinn muttered.

+o+

In the middle of the ring, Kira was thankful that the autumn wind made the heat bearable.

"You're one hard man to beat, Prince Athrun."

"Of course. I wouldn't have survived all those battles if I weren't."

Except for a few variations, the rules of the fight were the same as in all mock fights. The strikes were not meant to kill. The fighters cannot injure sensitive areas like the neck, groin, or any other area that could be life-threatening. A fighter can win either by making the opponent step beyond the white line—the same rule in Zaft's mock brawls—or by scoring what would be a lethal blow had they been using real swords.

Athrun continued to pummel him with successive strikes, barely giving him the space to breathe. For most of the thirty minutes of the fight, Kira had been on the defensive.

"I see your style is very aggressive," Kira said, fighting to block off Athrun's sword as it clashed against his.

"Not really. I just don't think I should give you time to think."

_Right __on_, Kira thought. He was a tactical fighter, the kind who analyzed the situation before making a move. With Athrun's lightning fast attacks, all Kira could rely on were his instincts.

"But you know, I've figured something about your style," Kira said.

"What is that?"

"You direct all your attention to only one direction. Maybe you get distracted easily."

"That's not true." Athrun broke off, pushing Kira to the other end of the ring. For the first time, they had wandered away from the center, standing at opposite ends.

"Is that my sister behind you?"

"Wha..."

But right before Athrun could turn to look, Kira came crashing against him with one powerful blow to push him out of the ring. It almost worked. Athrun stood with his sword pierced to the wooden stage, anchoring him in place. The force was so strong, it shook the four posts surrounding the ring.

"Breaking the ring should be against the rules," Kira grinned, amused at Athrun's annoyed expression.

"You're the one who isn't playing fair."

"Just testing a theory. And it looks like I'm right." Without giving Athrun a moment to recover, Kira moved to the offensive.

+o+

Kira wasn't lying, though. Cagalli did make it somehow to the front row, amid the thick crowd that had gathered to see the fight. In his mind, he breathed a sigh of relief. Cagalli was safe and sound.

Athrun pulled his attention back to the fight with a deafening strike. "See? I told you we didn't do anything to her."

"I see she was well taken care of. Thank you for looking after her," Kira retaliated with a rapid series of blows, trying to catch Athrun off guard. Taking one second to catch his own breath, Kira asked, "From the look on her face, I can tell she is very troubled by the fact that her brother and a friend are neck to neck in the ring. How well acquainted are you two?"

Without taking the time to answer, Athrun dunked, aimed a kick at Kira's ankles, to which he promptly jumped out of the way. Just as he landed, Athrun's sword came crashing down, almost ramming into his face.

"I see you don't like talking about this?"

"You haven't stopped asking about that since this morning. And I'll give you the same answer. _We're __friends._"

Athrun swung his blade to hit Kira's neck, but Kira was quick to block it. Anyone could see the frustration on Athrun's face. His opponent's smirk irritated him even more. He knew he had no time to waste. Le Creuset had escaped the night before, the obvious course of action after guiding Kira's party in Aprilius. Now it was clear where his allegiance lied, and he was, without a doubt, a threat.

Athrun had sent Yzak and Dearka to trace his whereabouts, but he knew they wouldn't be able to capture him. His whereabouts were an easy guess, though.

_He'll go to wherever Dullindal is. In this case, Orb._

But now that Kira had promised he would deliver Dullindal to Aprilius, Le Creuset's decision may no longer be as clear-cut. While his mind rattled through the possibilities, the screaming of the crowd was gradually getting to him, and the heat wasn't helping much, either. To make things worse, _she_was watching.

_You __must __be __very __happy __right __now. _Athrun threw a quick glance at Cagalli, a few feet away. She looked very tense, shoulders hunched, as if she wanted to jump into the ring herself. Athrun rolled his eyes. This was the first time Cagalli had seen him struggling so badly against anyone—by his standards, anyway. If Kira were to beat him, it would be the second time someone from her family—Orb's royal family—defeated him. Quite an honor for Orb.

_Of course she would be rooting for her brother, for Orb. What was I expecting?_

+o+

Meanwhile, the fight had gathered much attention, even from the establishments surrounding the plaza. Many of its residents, mostly working men having midafternoon tea, stepped out to the balconies to watch.

One of them, however, didn't need to. His seat was placed conveniently beside a window overlooking the plaza, a perfect viewing spot hidden from the public. His tea had been barely touched for an hour—since the fight started.

"Formidable opponent... What do you think, Patrick?"

Sitting in front of him was Reverend Malchio, his closest adviser and Athrun's godfather. While the rest of the city was restless amid the fight, his calm visage mirrored the clear blue skies. The reverend could not be fazed by anything.

"A preview of sorts for the upcoming battle. Athrun's failing miserably. I was expecting a lot more out of him."

Grinning, Malchio said, "Were you expecting him to have defeated Prince Kira by now?"

"I was expecting him to have defeated Prince Kira at the first strike."

The reverend shrugged his shoulders, crossing his fingers. Patrick was not being full of himself. He was being cautious. To most people, it would look as if both fighters were equally exhausted. But if one looked closely, Athrun was panting a lot more heavily than Kira was.

"In terms of build, Athrun is quite a bit heavier than Prince Kira," Malchio commented. "That gives Orb's prince the obvious advantage in speed, and, I guess, in stamina as well?"

"Athrun's asset lies in his strength. His style is to finish off his opponents in one swift and powerful strike," Patrick replied. "That's why none of his mock brawls ever last for more than half an hour. The longer the fight drags on, the more tired he gets."

Neither fighter had moved for a minute. Most people thought they were reading each other's moves.

"Athrun's just trying to catch his breath," Patrick sighed. "That's why he's taking so long to deliver the last blow."

Malchio looked at his long-time friend, noting the creases on his forehead deepening. "You seem disappointed in him."

"I'm disappointed in him in a lot of things."

Patrick's eyes were fixed not on the fight, but on Orb's princess, watching intently at ringside. She seemed to be in deep thought, trying to figure out what the two fighters would do.

+o+

Cagalli was also one of the few who noticed that Kira was much less exhausted than Athrun was. _Looks __like __his __breathing __exercises __are __paying __off __pretty __well, _she thought.

At this rate, it seemed like the odds were in favor of her brother. The fact that he was on the defensive most of the time meant Athrun expended more energy being on the offensive. It surprised Cagalli how Athrun took so long to notice. Kira's strategy was to save all of his strength for the last blow, dragging the fight long enough to exhaust his opponent.

One of the most basic strategies in the book. _Why __didn't __Athrun __think __of __this __earlier?_

It was, indeed, strange, for someone of Athrun's caliber not to notice what Kira was planning. His moves for the entire fight were uncharacteristic of him as well. The Commander always reminded his men to think before making the next move, but here he was just throwing blows whenever he got the chance. It was almost like he regressed into an amateur.

_Whatever's __bothering __him __right __now, __it's __really __distracting __him,_ Cagalli thought.

After a few minutes of standing still, Athrun wasn't panting as heavily as before. Cagalli watched as he loosened up the muscles on his arms and neck. As he moved his neck in circles, he chanced upon Cagalli staring.

The girl instantly froze. She instantly had the urge to avoid his gaze.

_What's with that smirk? And to think I was actually worried about him. _

Looking away, she ended up finding a familiar face among the spectators watching from one of the windows. It was the old soldier she had befriended on her first day in Aprilius.

The man was better dressed today than when she first met him. From so high up, he looked like a stately nobleman above his subjects, even if it was the prince he met eye to eye with. The man scoffed, as if to show he was displeased about something. Then he turned his back and disappeared into the darkened room.

Cagalli thought it was uncharacteristically rude of the man, who had been so nice to her when he toured her around the city. She turned to Athrun, thinking he would have the usual baffled look on his face when he saw something unexpected. But she was wrong.

"That dark look in your eyes is not a good sign," she heard Kira say, gripping his own weapon firmly. "Whatever your intentions are, they don't belong in a mock fi..."

Everyone heard the ring crack under Athrun's feet as he charged towards Kira, forcing Kira to take a few steps back. Successive strikes rained down on him, the crowd roaring in excitement. All Kira could do was block and back away, overwhelmed by Athrun's sheer power.

Forced to near closer and closer to the edge of the ring, Kira found himself pushed to one of the wooden posts. Not once breaking contact, Athrun pushed on, threatening to crush Kira's neck. Kira fought to maintain his ground.

The crowd was ecstatic, cheering Athrun on. But Kira knew Athrun was deaf to that. All that was in his mind was his opponent, the ring, and an uncontrollable urge to beat him into a bloody pulp.

Kira knew the final blow was coming. With lightning fast movements, Athrun prepared himself to strike. That split-second was the chance Kira was waiting for. Athrun was open for attack. Not wasting the opportunity, Kira aimed for a blow to the man's side, worried a forward attack using a pointed weapon could puncture his opponent's gut.

That slight moment of hesitation cost him the win. His sword flying off to the crowd, Kira clutched his hand, throbbing with pain from Athrun kicking the weapon out of his grip. The next thing he knew, Athrun's shadow blocked out the sun, raising his sword.

Reason was completely out of the window. Knowing it could save his life, Kira grabbed a small knife from his pocket.

"No, don't!"

Before Kira could pull it out, Athrun's sword came crashing down. Not on flesh, but on wood. Breathing heavily, Athrun let go of his wooden blade, snapped in half from hitting the oak posts. Splinters of wood lay as far as the edge of the crowd as they stood in awe. The post, at least twenty feet high, was almost pried off the ring. A couple of nails came off from the side.

From behind him, Kira could hear someone sigh in relief.

"What do you think you're doing? You almost broke my brother's neck!"

It took a while before Athrun realized Cagalli was talking to him. Whatever took over him seemed to have calmed down for now. Avoiding eye contact, Athrun turned away.

"Both of us are incapable of continuing the fight. Let's call it a draw," he bellowed, jumping off the ring.

+o+

"Drats, where could he have gone?" Cagalli muttered, catching her breath.

"I don't understand why we're searching for him in his own city. There's no way he could get lost, you know."

"That's not the point, Kira. Just keep quiet and follow me, I know this city better than you do. Or go back to the others. Lacus might be worried."

"And let my directionally-challenged sister get lost in a big city like this? Not a chance."

Kira sighed. He was still exhausted from his bout with Zaft's prince, but Cagalli had him scouring the city for the man. They had covered half the city already.

But at least he had one consolation.

"I'm just glad you're safe."

The past three months had been the longest in his life, ever since Cagalli decided to become a spy. All the anxious nights he waited for Cagalli's first message that never got to his hands. All the nights he thought something had happened to his precious sister..

"Why was everyone so worried?" Cagalli grinned, brushing off his hand. Without Kira realizing it, his hand started to brush away the stray strands of hair sticking on his sister's face. Her skin was slightly darker after being exposed to the harsh southern summer for so long, but her face was vibrant as ever.

"Cagalli, how close are you to Prince Athrun?"

"That question again?" Cagalli snapped. "I'm tired of people making a fuss of it. We're.."

"Friends. I know, you better be nothing more."

"What, you think I've fallen for him, willingly become his queen and never come back to Orb? Please, it'd take a lot more than his knight-in-shining-armor charm to capture my heart."

Kira wasn't smiling anymore.

"Brother, he may not share our ideals on many things, but he's a good man. And he's never done anything to hurt me."

The bitter look on her brother's face was not a good sign.

"He hasn't done anything to hurt you, Cagalli. Not yet. I think it's time you heard the truth."

0000000

There. This chapter was supposed to be a lot longer, but this looked like a good cliffie. Hope everyone liked the Athrun vs Kira fight. Don't worry, I will do my very best to make the next one more exciting (woops, spoiler. Oh well). Many thanks to everyone who has followed this story up to this point. Don't forget to leave a review. Nothing beats the feeling of being appreciated. Thanks and till the next update.


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